


The Gambler's Heart

by Setcheti



Series: The Gambler's Heart [3]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV), Wild Wild West (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 07:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 55,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2220513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setcheti/pseuds/Setcheti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New faces appear in Four Corners, and things change - in town and within the Seven - in unexpected ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Seven dust-caked men on seven tired horses slowly rode up the main street of the town of Four Corners just as the sun was breaking over the horizon and dismounted - to put it kindly - in front of the livery stable. The youngest and smallest of them handed his reins to the man next to him and announced tiredly, "Looks like there's someone at the jail. I'm gonna go check it out."

"Want me to go, JD?" The tall, mustached cowboy looked and sounded his concern. "You're plumb beat, kid."

"So're you, Buck," the kid replied, taking off his battered bowler hat and half-heartedly trying to beat some of the trail dust off of it. He shrugged his coat straight on his shoulders and ran a sleeve across the tin star that adorned the lapel. "I'll meet up with you all at the hotel." Not waiting for a response, he replaced the hat over his longish dark hair and headed down the street toward the jailhouse, nodding to the few early-risers he passed on his way.

Buck gazed after him with a mixture of amusement and pride. "That boy's gonna make a damn fine lawman someday."

"He's a damn fine sheriff now," the black-dressed man beside him said thoughtfully, his cool turquoise eyes scanning the quiet street. "Never would have thought it when I first met him."

"Mr. Dunne did appeah rather hopeless at the time, didn't he," chuckled a shorter man whose red coat was nearly brown with dust. "Lucky for this town that appearances are occasionally deceivin'."

That made Chris smile, and the large, grizzled man on his other side rumbled, "You would be the one to say that, Brother Ezra."

Ezra grimaced in mock irritation. "Ah believe that could be construed as an insult, Mr. Sanchez," he drawled, his green eyes sparkling with the laughter five of his friends weren't bothering to hold back; the sixth, a tall, sober-faced black man wearing a brace of wicked-looking knives, merely snorted and looked away. The gambler pulled off his flat-crowned black hat and used it to smack the person closest to him, a younger man in a buckskin jacket. "If you're quite finished with this unseemly display of hilarity, Mr. Tanner, I believe your horse could use some attention."

"So could yours, Ez," Vin said with a wink; as one, both men handed over their reins to the remaining stable hands and then cockily saluted their leader before walking off. "Be seein' ya at breakfast, boys!"

Chris groaned and shook his head. "Shit. It's gonna be one of those days."

 

"Cole," JD greeted the man who met him in front of the jail. "What's going on? Didn't have any trouble, I hope."

"Just a little, Sheriff," the cowhand said. "Had some strangers show up in town a few days ago, and two of 'em…well, they didn't give us much choice but to lock 'em up until you got back. And Jesse Matthews went kind o' wild the other night so's we locked him up too.

"He have a reason?"

Cole grinned. "Not to me, but I know why he did it; seems he'd been on another tear and his cookin' was sufferin' more than usual. Waitress got the customers settled down and fixed it all up, but Miz Abbott told Jesse not to come back 'less he was a payin' customer hisself."

JD chuckled. "Can't say I'm sorry to hear it. Who's cooking now?"

"Waitress - though I guess that makes her the cook, now." Cole spat off the side of the porch. "Don't rightly care what they call her, as long as she makes some o' them flapjacks again soon."

The young sheriff filed that observation away for later; he was partial to flapjacks himself. "What about the other two? What'd they do?"

Cole hesitated. "I don't think they're from around here, Sheriff; maybe not even from this country."

JD's brown eyes narrowed. "You didn't answer my question, Cole; what did they _do_?"

"They weren't…decent," the cowhand stammered, plainly embarrassed. "I ain't never seen no woman act like that, an' these two aren't much more than girls anyhow from the looks of 'em. Miss Inez threw 'em out of the saloon but they wouldn't go, started quite a ruckus--ain't never heard no woman swear like that neither. But once me an' the boys got their guns…

"They had guns?!"

"Lifted 'em off some other fellas in the saloon." Cole spat again. "Weren't the only things they took. We got it all back an' locked 'em up. They kept spoutin' stuff off; seemed to think they knew an awful lot about everything…you seven in particular. Figgered we'd leave it for you all to deal with."

JD frowned, worried. "You did the right thing, Cole; I'll take over from here." He stepped past the cowhand and went inside the jail, not quite closing the door behind him.

Cole waited. He heard the sheriff walk to his desk and greet Jesse Matthews with a genial, "Feelin' any better, Jesse?" Matthews grumbled something about getting out, to which JD replied that they'd talk about it after breakfast. "And how're you getting along with your two roommates…" The steps went further into the jail, then stopped. Two young female voices, one with a nasty shrill giggle, began clamoring the young man's name and making highly personal and increasingly lewd comments. The steps started up again, quicker this time, heading back toward the door. "All right then, I'll be back later with your breakfast and then we'll see what's what."

The door opened, and JD walked out and then closed it carefully behind him. He slumped against the wall of the jail and whispered, "Oh my sweet lord, that just ain't _right -_ even the women at the brothel don't act like that!"

Cole nodded, eyeing the younger man sympathetically. "That's why I ain't standin' in there."

Buck came up just then and gave JD a worried look. "Problem?"

JD waved his hand at the door and shook his head. "Hell yes."

Buck raised his eyebrows at that and went into the jail without another word. The two younger men heard him walk with firm strides over to the cells and stop; the cessation of his footsteps coincided exactly with the beginning of a stream of even more shockingly explicit observations from the two female prisoners. There was no comment from the ladies' man, however. Booted footsteps moved around the jail for a moment, then a cell door clanked back on its hinges and two sets of steps headed for the door.

Buck walked out of the jail with Jesse Matthews in tow just as Chris joined the two young men on the porch. The ladies' man's face was flushed - with embarrassment or anger, no one could tell. "Problem, Buck?"

"Hell yes." Buck pushed Matthews against one of the porch supports and looked at JD and Cole. "Lessen he murdered somebody, I couldn't see leavin' him in there with…that."

JD took a deep breath and shifted back into sheriff mode. "Jesse, you gonna cause any more trouble? 'Cause if you are…" he let the threat hang and looked pointedly back toward the jail. Matthews gulped and shook his head violently. "Good. Long as we understand each other." Buck released his hold and the four men watched Matthews head off down the street as fast as his legs could carry him. "Well, Buck?"

The ladies' man shook his head. "That in there is…" He struggled to find the right words. "Beyond my experience - and I must say _my_ experience has been considerable." He put out a hand as Chris brushed past him to go in, but only to offer advice. "I were you,  pard, I'd go in there lookin' as dangerous as possible; maybe you can intimidate 'em."

"He's right, Chris," JD agreed seriously. "They seem to know some about us; depending on what they've heard, they might just be afraid of you."

Larabee smiled appreciatively; sometimes his 'bad element' reputation was a good thing. "Cole, what'd you lock 'em up for?"

"Tried to start a fight in the saloon, stole off'n some fellas, threatened to shoot people. That an' they just gen'rally ain't decent." Chris raised an eyebrow at that one and Cole shrugged. "You'll understand once you see it," the cowhand said. "They just ain't right."

"Amen to that," Buck agreed with a shudder. Chris frowned at him and then walked over to the door and threw it open, leaving it swinging wide as he stalked into the jail and straight over to the cell.

What he saw surprised him. Neither one of the cell's two occupants could have been more than fourteen or fifteen, but the expressions they wore were anything but innocent. Both were wearing obvious makeup and clothes that even a whore would hesitate to wear in public, and both had short hair; one with blonde hair to just below her ears and pulled to one side, the other with unnaturally bluish-black hair cut short as a boy's and sticking up in stiff spikes. The jewelry they were wearing looked vaguely Indian in design but was strangely fragile and cheap-looking. Cole's assessment had been spot-on; the two of them just weren't right.

The girls had been startled by the black-clad gunslinger's abrupt entry and narrow-eyed stare, but they recovered quickly. The black-haired one pushed herself up against the bars in a vaguely obscene manner and leered at him. "Ooh, look 'Rissa, it's the Larabee Glare. We're in trouble now."

"I am _sooo_ scared," the blonde responded from an equally suggestive position on the cot. "Oh wait, no I'm not."

They both giggled nastily, Catie's coming out unpleasantly shrill. Chris was not amused; his scowl deepened. "Where are your parents?" he demanded harshly. The answer he got wasn't related to his question but did succeed in making him furious; he yelled for Buck and drew his gun. "Open the door and pull that one out," he told the unhappy ladies' man, pointing at Catie. "I want them in separate cells."

Buck complied reluctantly, and the fight was on as soon as he unlocked their door; in the end, it took both himself and JD to wrestle the girl into the other cell while Cole assisted Chris with keeping Rissa in hers - it appeared that neither one of them were afraid of being shot. Once the doors were secure again Chris turned without another word and led his men back outside, shutting the door against the tidal wave of profanity that tried to follow them. "Thanks for the help, Cole," he said. "We'll take it from here."

"Music to my ears," the cowhand replied. "Think I'll head back to the ranch; I've had enough of lawin' to last me for a while."

Buck slapped him on the back and shook his head. "Son, we get any more like that in there…I may go back to bein' a cowhand myself."

 

Meanwhile, Ezra and Vin had headed off in search of breakfast. Ezra stopped dead directly in front of the hotel, eyes widening as he lifted his head and sniffed the morning air in disbelief. "Dear Lord, it _can't_ be…"

The long-haired tracker managed to stop just short of a collision and regarded him with amusement. "Can't be what, Ez?"

The gambler took another sniff. "Red-eye gravy, Vin. I distinctly detect the aroma of a fine Southern breakfast comin' from this den of culinary unrest."

Vin sniffed too, and grinned. "I smell ham," he said happily, winking at the smaller man. "An' we're the first ones here…"

Ezra matched his grin, gold tooth flashing in the early morning sunlight. "Then by all means, we must take steps to secure a generous portion for ourselves before our insatiable companions arrive."

"I almost understood that," Vin mused, leading the way into the hotel's small dining area and claiming a seat that gave him full view of both exits. "Must be spendin' too much time with you, Ez."

"That's your good fortune," the gambler retorted, settling himself opposite and removing his dusty hat. "I'll have you civilized yet."

The proprietress stuck her head out of the kitchen. "Good morning, boys. Breakfast or just coffee?"

"Good mornin' to you, Mrs. Abbott," Ezra greeted the long-time widow politely. "We will most certainly be wantin' breakfast."

"And plenty of it," Vin added. "It smells wonderful."

"Doesn't it though?" The usually dour woman smiled at them both before disappearing back into the fragrant kitchen. She returned a few moments later with two well-laden plates and then went back for the pot of coffee.

Ezra's raised hand stopped her from leaving after the coffee was poured. "A moment please," he requested. He carefully sampled a bite of everything on his plate. "As I thought," he sighed rapturously. "I shall be requirin' a second serving in the very near future."

"Me too, ma'am," Vin told the startled woman. "Figure we'd better let you know now, before the rest of us come in."

"Not a bad idea," she agreed, pleased. "I'll tell Julie to save some back for you."

"Julie?" Two heads snapped up, the instincts of both lawmen briefly overriding the call of their impatient stomachs. "I don't believe I know the lady," Ezra said. "A relative of yours recently arrived, Mrs. Abbott?"

"No, Mr. Standish. Her name is Juliet Moore, and she showed up in town while you boys were gone. I hired her to be a waitress, but we had a…problem with the cook next mornin' and she ended up taking his job instead."

Vin raised an eyebrow. "She stayin' at the boarding house?"

"No, with the Potters; Gloria took a right liking to her, offered to let her stay in their extra room if she'd help out with the store and the children." The portly woman shook her head thoughtfully. "She's a decent, hardworking girl, Julie is - not like those two little hellions Matthew Cole has locked up in the jail right now. Don't rightly know what to think about _them_ , but I know it wouldn't be anything Christian." She shook her head again and smiled at the two men. "I'm sure you boys can sort them out. I'd best go help Julie."

Ezra sipped thoughtfully on his coffee, watching her vanish through the swinging kitchen door. "It sounds as though quite a bit transpired in our absence, Vin."

"I reckon so," the tracker agreed, frowning for a moment before digging back into his breakfast. "Well, I'm sure it can wait until we're finished eatin'."

 

By the time Chris, Buck and JD joined them, Ezra and Vin were halfway through their second helping of breakfast and Nathan and Josiah were polishing off their first. Buck's eyes widened when he saw what they were eating. "Did ya save any for us, boys?"

"Not intentionally," Ezra drawled over the rim of his coffee cup. "Mrs. Abbott informed us there is a problem to be sorted out at the jail?"

JD groaned, and Buck patted his shoulder in sympathy. "You could call 'em that," Chris said darkly. "Damned if I know what else to make of them." He answered the gambler's raised eyebrow with a tight shake of his head. "We'll all go back to the jail after breakfast, figure out what to do with 'em - I don't want anyone goin' in there alone."

That got Vin's attention. "Thought she said they was girls?"

"So was Maddie," Buck grunted. "These two make her look like a right proper lady."

"Good lord, they must be animals indeed," Ezra observed, pushing his empty plate back with a sigh. "What brought them to our fair municipality?"

"Dunno," JD replied. "Cole said they just showed up, started causing trouble at the saloon." He frowned. "He said they thought they knew an awful lot about the seven of us."

"Yeah, some of them comments they made was awful personal," Buck agreed, troubled. "Think they've been watchin' us?"

"Ain't seen no sign," Vin declared, mopping up gravy with a square of cornbread.

"And it's not like we could've overlooked them," Chris said darkly. "No, there's something else going on here, I can feel it. We'd better…" Mrs. Abbott set a full plate in front of him and his voice trailed off as he stared at it. "Um, we'll do it after breakfast - maybe they'll have a little less spit in 'em if they're hungry."

 

The seven men went back to the jail together, full but not happy; they could hear the noise the two prisoners were creating even through the jail's thick walls. "Chris, I think I'm gonna head out on patrol…"

Chris snagged the ladies' man's arm before he could take a single step. "Nice try, Buck."

"Only if the rest of us are goin' too," JD added. "I don't want to go in there any more than you do, Buck, but we gotta deal with them eventually."

"Sooner better than later," Chris agreed firmly. "Like I said before, we'll all go in together. We need to find out where they came from and why they're here."

"And where their parents are, who's responsible for 'em," the young sheriff added. "They been here two days an' no one's come to claim them."

No one moved; the men all looked at each other, and finally they all looked at Chris. Larabee snorted and shook his head. "God dammit," he swore, and threw open the jail door with a disgusted expression. "You two knock that the hell off!"

There was a short moment of silence as the seven men filed into the jail, and then the two girls began to laugh uproariously. "Oh Catie," Rissa choked out. "Listen to him, the man in black thinks he's our daddy or somethin'!"

Catie  appeared to find this observation hilariously inspiring and the two of them began to sing a raucous song about a man in black. Chris's face turned red, and Vin spoke up before the gunslinger could let loose his famous temper. "Now, you two heard him, shut it down; we're here to ask you some questions."

"How 'bout if I ask you some?" Catie purred. "Tell me, pretty boy, how come you only screw married women?" Vin's mouth dropped open and the girls dissolved into laughter again, slapping each other's hands through the dividing bars of their cells. "Aw, ain't you gonna answer? I really wanted to know!"

"Yeah, we already knew why tall, dark and horny over there does everyone in sight," Rissa chimed in. "He's a whore just like his mama!"

Josiah grabbed hold of Buck before he could do anything rash and shook his head. "Young woman, I'd advise you to watch your mouth unless you want it washed out with some good lye soap. Now why don't you..."

Rissa  smiled nastily at him. "How's your crazy sister?" Josiah and Vin both started and the other men looked confused - except Ezra, who scowled. The blonde girl laughed. "Oh, so you didn't tell your friends you pawned off your loony baby sister on a bunch of nuns, huh? Afraid they wouldn't think too much of that, huh, preacher-man?"

Josiah paled but held his ground. "The Sisters take good care of her - better care than I could. She's happy there."

"You just keep tellin' yourself that," Catie smirked, insinuating herself closer to the bars. "While you're doin' your 'penance' at that run down church \- whatcha tryin' to make up for anyways, Preacher Man? Leavin' her there an' lettin' those frigid bitches work her like a nigger while you hang around here an' play at bein' some kind of big dumb white version of Mr. 'Snatch the pebble from my hand', or was there somethin' else?"

Buck stepped up quickly and got between Vin and the cell; Ezra did the same for Josiah. "What the hell is the matter with you two, anyway?" the ladies' man demanded. "What kind of rock does somethin' like you crawl out from under?"

"I believe we'd all like the answer to that question," Ezra said, keeping one restraining hand on the center of Josiah's chest and half turning to stare narrowly at the giggling girls. "If only to ascertain its location and blow it straight to hell."

What happened next was so quick that only Ezra and Buck saw it clearly: Catie's beringed hand with it's black-painted nails shot through the bars and slapped against the gambler's right sleeve, releasing his derringer from its spring-loaded rig. Luckily, she had underestimated Ezra's reflexes; he automatically clamped his hand around the small weapon as it shot into his palm and jerked his arm up and out of reach, feeling her fingernails graze the back of his hand as she grabbed for it. Buck had drawn his own gun when he saw her sudden movement, but the girl ignored him and swore volubly, swiping at the out-of-reach gambler.

Ezra smiled thinly, slowly resetting the hidden mechanism. "Ah'm afraid ah'm beginnin' to find your limited vocabulary most monotonous," he said, only the thickening of his accent giving away his startlement at the attack.

"Least I ain't usin' big words to try to impress everybody," she shot back. He raised an eyebrow and she sneered knowingly at him. "Aw, don't try to deny it; if you was as slick an' smart as you're connin' these guys to think, you wouldn't still be in this pissant town - an maybe you would'a got away with all that money instead of gettin' shot tryin' to steal it."

Nathan chortled, but Ezra ignored him; he knew the healer was the only man present who believed the accusation to be accurate. "Ah believe ah could say the same regardin' you, young woman," he drawled blandly. "However, you no longer possess the choice of leavin' town at will no mattah what the reason, while ah myself am free to come and go as ah please - and it pleases me to remain."

"Ain't no one expected ya to - you done run out once," Nathan said, shaking his head. "Oh no wait, that last time makes it twice, don't it?" Smirking at the gambler, he missed seeing Vin pull a fuming JD out of the jail at a nod from Chris; Buck holstered his gun and followed, frowning. The two prisoners once again dissolved into unpleasant laughter.

Ezra saw it all and stiffened; things had been considerably less than friendly between himself and the tall healer since Rosa May Parker had come to town a few months ago, and he was starting to think that it might be best if he just moved on before the one-sided feud tore the rest of the team apart. The thought made him cold inside; Four Corners was the first place in years where he'd felt at home, and the thought of leaving the men he'd come to think of as family sickened him. But his promise had to come first…

Ezra still remembered the day he'd made that promise, more than six years ago. He'd crept into the bedroom that morning, not wanting to wake his wife if she was sleeping - her confinement with their second child was not going as easily as it had with Emily, and Rosa May had ordered her to remain in bed until the sickness had passed. But she'd been awake, waiting for him. They had talked for a time, holding each other, neither one wanting to let go. And before he had managed to tear himself away, his beloved Christina had begged one thing of him…

_"…Ezra, promise me you won't harbor the desire for vengeance in your heart?"_

_He'd frozen, speechless, at the magnitude of what she was asking of him. "Christina, darlin'…" _

_"Promise me, Ezra!" Her voice had had an edge of desperation in it, and there were tears in her eyes. "Please! Ah couldn't go on to mah rest knowin' that the man ah loved had become a monster because of me. You have to promise me!" _

_Tears had sprung up in his eyes as well. "All right," he'd said brokenly. He'd carefully unwound her shaking hand from the folds of his coat and brought it to his lips. "You have mah word, cherie; ah won't seek revenge if…the unthinkable happens." He'd then almost crushed her to his chest, as though trying to protect her from the horrors he was fearing. "Dear God, please don't let it come to that. Ah couldn't live without you and Emily and Rosa May; ah love you all too much to lose you." _

_"And we love you too much to see you lost," she'd whispered. They'd kissed one last time, and then he'd broken away and left without looking back._

_Rosa May had met him in the kitchen, and without a word had pulled him into a motherly hug, stroking the brown head that was pressed against her shoulder. "Oh, mah boy," she'd whispered to him. "You be sure to come back now, Mr. Ezra." _

_" Ah'll do mah very best," he'd promised. "Keep yourselves safe, Rosa May; y'all have to be here when ah come home." His voice had cracked on the word home. "Rosa May, ah…" _

_She'd pressed a kiss to his forehead and wiped his tear-streaked face like a child's, smoothing his rumpled hair with her fingers. "Get on with you now," she'd ordered, her own voice none too steady and her brown eyes suspiciously bright. "You're gonna be late reportin' an' get yourself an' Michael into trouble before you even gets to the fightin'. An' the quicker you leave, the quicker you'll come home." _

_"Right."_ He'd managed a smile for her, albeit a watery one, and saluted the teary-eyed colored woman before swinging his bag up onto his shoulder and heading out the kitchen door into the early-morning chill. He had come back, but…the unthinkable had happened in his absence, just like he'd feared, and all that was left of his love was that impossible promise. In the six years that had passed since he'd deposited the last of his tears on the crudely marked graves in what had once been his wife's flower garden, he had never once broken it.

And he wasn't about to break it now. He could feel the tight gold band on his finger, burning it's reminder as he arched a cool eyebrow at Nathan, poker face firmly in place. He smiled with apparent ease, gold tooth glinting. "Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Jackson; ah do _try_ to do what's expected of me if at all possible - isn't that correct, Mr. Sanchez?"

Josiah gave him a long look, thinking of the fiasco with the disputed money and his own part in it, and then nodded slowly. "Yeah, Ezra, I guess you do. You want to go fetch these two their breakfast?" The gambler nodded and took off, and the ex-preacher sighed. "Damn."

Nathan snorted. "Tries and fails; man's got a long way to go to live up to anyone's expectations."

Josiah just shook his head. "You mean down to them," he replied cryptically, walking away from the other two men and taking a seat at the desk. There was a note tucked into his worn bible back at the church, a note he'd found wrapped around a stack of money in the poorbox on that awful day eight weeks ago; in firm, cultured handwriting it read, _Sorry to disappoint, I do try to do what is expected of me if at all possible--but your suggestion proved not to be. I believe that Carson City might be a better place for a gentleman such as myself._ The donation had proved to be a portion of the gambler's savings, the rest of which the man had secreted inside the lining of his favorite coat for safekeeping. Josiah shook his head again and muttered softly, "Thank god for failure."

 

Ezra was more than happy to go back to the hotel after their prisoners' breakfast; the quick walk to the hotel and back would go a long way toward helping him maintain his composed facade in spite of the morning's multiple verbal attacks on his person. He knew that Chris counted on him to be the one who kept his head when others couldn't - or wouldn't - and it was a trust he was proud to maintain. Yet another reason not to leave…

The dining room was empty again when he came in and Mrs. Abbott was nowhere in sight, so the gambler crossed the room and rapped on the swinging kitchen door with his knuckles. "Mrs. Abbott? I'm here to take some breakfast to those two undeservin' heathens at the jail."

From the other side a sweet, high voice with just a touch of Southern honey exclaimed, "Oh dear!" Light footsteps approached, the door swung back…and Ezra discovered that he wasn't looking down far enough, not a normal occurrence for him when dealing with other adults. The small woman facing him was obviously not a child - at least, he didn't think so - but her head barely came as high as his shoulder. Large indigo eyes blinked up at him, thickly framed by long black lashes. "Mrs. Abbott had to step out for a moment. What do you want them to have?"

"Pottage made from stable leavin's," he said, making the effort to turn his grimace into a smile. "But failin' that, whatever you have lyin' to hand will do; you certainly should not put yourself to any trouble on their behalf. You are Miss Moore, I take it?"

"Yes sir," she said, dipping her head politely. "Give me a few moments and I shall put together something for them. How do you plan to carry it back? Will I need to come with you?"

There was a slight tremor in her voice, and the thought of the dainty little creature in front of him going anywhere near the two animals in the jail actually made Ezra shudder. "That won't be necessary, my dear," he said quickly. "Mrs. Abbott keeps a basket for our use…if I might presume to enter the kitchen, I'm sure I can find it."

To his surprise she let him in at once and went back to the stove, pulling two plates from a stack as she went. He found the basket almost immediately, and then found himself studying the town's newest addition while she cooked. She had long ebony hair pulled back into a soft braid that fell to well past her waist, and the small wisps that had escaped confinement curled softly around her delicate, heart-shaped face in striking contrast to her pale complexion. The brown dress she wore under her apron was unfashionable and did not fit her as well as it could have, but her movements were quick and graceful and it was all in all a pleasure to watch her work. She had the two plates filled more quickly than he would have expected with eggs, potatoes and leftover cornbread and packed them into the basket with a slight frown. "Do you think that will be enough?"

He looked at the well-filled plates and sighed, shaking his head. "I think it's more than they deserve," he replied. "And I'm certain they won't appreciate the honor." She cocked her head at him questioningly and he smiled. "Why, the honor of havin' you cook for them, my dear." Her mouth opened in a silently surprised 'o' and a faint rosy blush crept over her cheeks; Ezra's smile widened and he sketched a slight bow. "My thanks, Miss Moore. I shall return the basket and plates shortly."

He was still smiling when he returned to the jail, causing the man in black to raise an eyebrow. "That didn't take long."

"Miss Moore is most efficient," Ezra replied. "If a tad more generous to these unworthies than I would have been." He held the basket out so Chris could look into it; the gunslinger whistled and shook his head. "I know; she actually asked me if I thought that would be _enough_."

"That would be enough to feed Buck and JD," Chris snorted. Then he frowned. "Miss Moore, you said?"

"Miss Juliet Moore," Ezra elaborated. "She's stayin' with the Potters. Mrs. Abbott seems to think a great deal of her." He lowered his voice. "She's a little bit of a thing, Chris, not much bigger than a child. We may want to have a word with Mrs. Potter regardin' the local predators, if you understand my meanin'."

Chris's frown deepened and he nodded. "Probably a good idea; I'll leave it to you."

It was Ezra's turn to snort. "Fittin', considerin' that most of the good townsfolk think _I'm_ one of the local predators."

"Shows how wrong people can be, don't it?" Chris responded, a sly smile displacing his frown. "I don't think you've 'hunted' since you been here, Ez."

Ezra's own smile was wistful. "I wouldn't disgrace my Christina's memory with such behavior," he said softly, sharing a look of complete understanding with the gunslinger. "Just as you wouldn't disgrace Sarah's."

"Nope." Chris settled back in his chair and got comfortable again. "Well, I guess you better get in there and get it over with; Josiah's in there with 'em now, Buck's on patrol, and the rest of the boys are off on their own. Josiah 'suggested' that I come out here and cool off a bit."

"I can just imagine." Ezra squared his shoulders and entered the jail; the verbal torrent that greeted him was stilled by his upraised hand and a wicked smile. "Now, now, ladies, you might want to reconsider this course of action if you want your breakfast. I can always take it back and say you weren't hungry." His answer was dead silence and two sullen expressions. "Good, I see that we understand each other."

He dropped the basket on the desk and pulled out the plates, handing one to Josiah; the ex-preacher shook his head. "Bread and water would have been more fitting."

"You're too generous; slow starvation would have been my choice," the gambler replied. He pushed Catie's plate through the slot in the bars with his left hand, careful to keep his right arm with it's derringer rig well out of her reach. Then he stepped back and watched Josiah repeat the cautious procedure with Rissa and the two men returned to the desk. Ezra sat down on one corner where he could keep an eye on them as well as the door. "I wonder if havin' a full stomach will mellow their dispositions any?"

"Probably not," the ex-preacher grumbled, watching as the two girls greedily ate their late breakfast. "Unless it makes them sleepy. We can only hope."

 

Josiah's hopes didn't come to fruition until almost ten o'clock that night - and then only because the light in the jail had been extinguished nearly an hour earlier. Ezra had departed at dusk in pursuit of new pickings at the poker table, and Vin had gone with him. Chris, unnerved by everything they'd missed on their three days out of town although he wasn't actually admitting it, was patrolling the dark streets of Four Corners on foot while Nathan rode out a little ways from town to check the surrounding area. Buck was undoubtedly off somewhere trying to make up for three days with no women, and Josiah had sent JD off to bed when the young sheriff had almost nodded off in the rickety chair in front of the jail. The older man had appropriated the chair for his own use almost immediately afterwards, enjoying the spring night's gentle warmth that would all to soon give way to the unrelenting heat of a desert summer.

Chris returned after an hour of searching revealed no more 'surprises' had crept into town in his absence; he joined Josiah on the jail's faded porch and lit a cheroot, still staring into every shadow. "They finally shut up?"

"Yup." The ex-preacher stretched his long legs out in front of him and sighed. "Give any thought to what we're gonna do with 'em?"

"You mean who we're gonna saddle with 'em," the gunslinger corrected. "If they were boys I'd have done run them out of town at noon…"

"…but they ain't boys," Josiah finished grimly. "And I for one ain't so certain they'd leave."

"Me either." Both men fell silent, thinking. After long contemplation of the shadows, Chris asked, "Any idea where they came from?"

"Nope." Josiah was watching the sky, as though seeking answers in the thin, wispy clouds scudding across the faces of the stars high overhead. "Listened all afternoon and they didn't give nothin' away - nothin' of their own, anyway. But I know it wasn't any place I've ever been, and that don't leave much in this country. And they don't talk like foreigners."

"They talk like outlaws," Chris observed. "Lots of foul words and no respect for anything or anyone. And they know too much - that Catie girl knew exactly how to work Ezra's sleeve rig."

"Yup," Josiah agreed. "They been talkin' to somebody, that's for sure. Wouldn't mind knowin' who." He frowned at the sky. "And whoever it is, they must've been watching us for a long time - and more closely than I want to contemplate."

"I know." Thinking of the things the two girls had said suddenly gave Chris an idea. He looked down at his companion. "Josiah, I think I know what those two need." The older man cocked an eyebrow at him, and Chris grinned wickedly. "I think they could use a hefty dose of religion."

Josiah started, and then the idea sank in; he began to grin as well, pushing thoughts of his sister away for later - he was more than grateful that none of his friends had questioned him about her. "You think that Army troop comin' through here tomorrow might be willing to drop 'em off? I'm sure the Sisters up by Fort Laramie would be mighty glad of two extra pairs of hands."

The black-clad man nodded. "Bet they would," he drawled, pleased with the solution. "If anyone could fix… _that_ , it would be those nuns. How about you wire the Sisters and I'll see to the Army?"

Josiah levered himself up out of the chair and stretched mightily. "I'm on it, Brother," he said with a yawn. "First thing in the morning, I'll fire off a telegram explainin' things. Who's up next for watch?"

"Vin is," was the reply. Chris slid past him and settled into the vacated chair. "I'll watch until he's ready; I want him right where he is for now."

"Good place for him," Josiah approved unnecessarily. "I'm not all that tired; want me to take over for Vin in the saloon later?"

Chris didn't look at him, dragging on his cheroot. "Sure that would be a good idea? Nathan's due back 'bout that time, you know."

The ex-preacher's shoulders slumped slightly. "You don't think I can…"

"I think you don't like to rock the boat, but when you do you capsize the damn thing." The younger man's turquoise gaze was cool - not unfriendly, but not warm either. "I can't be sure what side of the fence you'll come down on when, Josiah, and this thing is gettin' explosive enough without you lightin' a fuse on either side. Bad enough that Vin…well, Vin's a situation all by himself anymore."

Sanchez didn't quite smile. "I thought it was a rather inspired performance, myself."

Chris snorted. "I'm gonna remind you of that the next time he gets shot and _we_ end up taking care of his sorry ass - don't think Nate was quite as 'inspired' as you were, and Vin knows it." Josiah muttered something under his breath and the gunslinger said sharply, "Yeah, Nate did deserve it, Josiah, but that's not the point; point is that you boys don't think about consequences when you do something like that! Forget about Vin, what do you think is  gonna happen the next time _Ezra_ gets hurt, huh? You think an 'inspired' rendition of Dixie is  gonna be worth what happens to him then?"

Even in the dark, Chris could see the big man blanch; he obviously _hadn't_ thought of it. "You talk to Brother Vin about this?"

"Didn't have to," was the firm reply. "He knows what he did; you're the one I'm worried about." The hard eyes softened a little. "Nathan's your friend, Preacher, but we all know how you feel about Ezra. I think you need to trust your boy to handle this thing his own way - just stand back and watch."

Josiah shuffled his feet. "Hard to do, lately."

"Since Rosa May came, I know," Chris said, knowing that wasn't what the older man was referring to. "But maybe you need to take a lesson from her, Josiah; she had even better reason than you to get into it with Nathan - but she didn't."

"No, she didn't," the ex-preacher agreed heavily. He sighed. "You're right, Chris; I haven't been thinking. Ezra's been acting mighty skittish these past couple of months, and it ain't all because of Nathan."

"Nope, it's not." The gunslinger relaxed in his chair, tipping it back to lean against the wall. "Ez don't want to pull this group apart; I think he'd leave before he'd let that happen."

Josiah froze. "He wouldn't leave; he loves it here."

"First real home he's had in more'n six years," Chris agreed, hearing guilt in the man's denial and approving; he suspected that the ex-preacher had had more than a little to do with the gambler's last attempt to leave Four Corners. "But that promise of his means more to him, and he ain't gonna break it because of Nathan - ain't gonna let you boys break it for him, either."

"I had a talk with JD." Buck's voice came from the shadows, startling Josiah; Chris grinned under the shadow cast by his hat. The ladies' man stepped onto the porch and leaned against the jail wall. "We agreed, him'n me; no one's doin' nothin' 'less Ez does it first - 'lessen he ain't able, of course, then we'll step in. Vin agreed to string along with us an' keep his Reb harmonica in his pocket for the time bein'." Buck tipped back his battered hat, clear brown eyes meeting Josiah's faded, troubled blue. "Don't want ol' Ez to light out again 'cause of us. How 'bout you, Preacher?"

"Nope, don't want that." Josiah sighed again. "Don't want that at all. Well, Brothers, I guess I'll be headin' back to the church; got some repairs to start in the morning." And tipping his hat to the two nodding men, he walked off into the night.

They watched until he was out of sight. "JD okay with this?"

"He will be." Buck slid down the rough wall and rested one arm on a drawn-up knee. "You?"

Larabee didn't answer him right away. "Ain't any of our place to interfere," he said finally. Another pause. "Wish it was."

"Know what ya mean, pard," Buck agreed. Then he chuckled. "Never thought I'd find myself wantin' to protect some Reb officer from an escaped slave."

Chris nodded but didn't laugh. "Know what ya mean," he echoed. He was remembering seeing one of his men shot down in the street trying to protect the woman he himself couldn't quite admit he might want to marry…and another of them triumphantly pulling blood-soaked money out of the downed man's jacket instead of trying to stop the bleeding. "Yep, I know what ya mean."

 


	2. Chapter 2

The Army unit marched through Four Corners the next day sharply at noon, and Chris traded on his reputation – both of them – to get the lieutenant leading the returning party to take the two fractious prisoners off his hands. Josiah clinched the deal by presenting the unhappy man with a telegram from the Mother Superior at the mission accepting responsibility for the girls upon delivery. Ezra had offered odds on how long it would be before the lieutenant gagged them both, but no one would bet with him and he eventually let it go.

With the last disruptions taken care of, normalcy settled back over the town like a comfortable blanket. JD went back to the jail and Chris, back to the saloon. Ezra rode in from patrol and joined Chris, Josiah rode out in the opposite direction. Nathan was out checking on some of the families on the outlying farms and small ranches, Vin had gone hunting, and Buck…well, everyone knew where Buck was. And as the day slowly drew to a close, Ezra gravitated back to his poker table and the other men one by one trickled in to sit with Chris at the table they had claimed as their own. Townsfolk drifting in for a drink or a game breathed a silent sigh of relief to see the seven peacekeepers there; the natural order of things had been restored in the town of Four Corners.

In the small attic room above the dry goods store, Mrs. Potter's new roomer blew on the second sheet of her letter to dry the glistening ink before folding the two pages carefully into thirds. She extracted a small, shiny-faced card from the leather purse lying beside her and inserted it into the center of the letter before tucking the whole thing into a coarse-grained envelope and sealing down the flap with paste from a small pot. She thought for a minute, then picked up her pen again and wrote out the address in neat, flowing letters. "Please be here," she whispered. "Oh please, you just _have_ to be here."

 

Josiah was surprised, to say the least, when the town's newest addition approached him in the church one afternoon about two weeks later; he had never been this close to her and hadn't realized how small she actually was. _I feel like Goliath being confronted by David_ , he thought, looking down into the small, serious face with its hesitant expression. "Miss Julie, is there something I can do for you?"

"Perhaps, Mr. Sanchez," she replied nervously. "Do you have a few moments?"

"Certainly." He led her to a seat on one of the wooden pews and took his own on the steps leading up to the rough pulpit, giving her his best friendly smile. "Now, what seems to be the trouble?"

Indigo eyes fixed on him hopefully. "Not so much _trouble_ ," she told him apologetically. "But I've been helping Mrs. Potter's children with their lessons and it brought an idea to my mind; I simply don't know if it's a good one. Mrs. Potter said you could tell me."

Josiah's smile widened. "Then by all means, my dear, let me hear this idea and I will do my best to help you determine its worth."

"Well," she began slowly. "I was helping Cedric and Cecily with their reading, and I began to wonder if anyone was teaching the children at the Indian village south of here to read as well. Everyone should know how to read," she told him seriously. "But this book," she held up the book clutched in her slender hand, and he recognized a McGuffey Reader. "This book would not be suitable."

"No, it wouldn't," he agreed, beginning to see where her idea might be going. "And no, to the best of my knowledge no one has tried to educate the village's children. I assume you had a more suitable text in mind for the purpose?"

"Not exactly." Her gaze dropped momentarily, her fair skin flushing rose with embarrassment. "I had thought that perhaps if you were familiar with the stories of their people, I might…might write some of them down for the children to read. Education might be more acceptable to the tribe if it supported their culture instead of undermining it."

Josiah's mouth dropped open and he closed it with a snap. "Miss Julie, I…I don't know what to say. I can't believe no one has thought of that before."

She was almost tremulously hopeful. "Will you help me?"

"I would be honored," he replied, leaning forward to envelop her tightly clasped hands in his own large ones. "Little Sister, this is a good thing you're wanting to do, and I'll help you in any way I can." He was already planning a quick ride out to the village to find out from the chief which stories would be best received. "Shall we start tomorrow afternoon?"

The grateful smile that blossomed on her face more than answered his question – and might have warmed more than his heart had he been as young as some of the men he rode with. As it was he found himself watching her walk back to the dry goods store with a protective paternal eye and wondering if a little judicious matchmaking might be in order. He resolved to find out if any of the town's eligible young men had noticed her yet, and was compiling a list in his head of the ones that were to be encouraged as he saddled up Pharisee and rode out of town. _I wonder if Brother Vin has given any thought to settling down…_

 

Juliet was there promptly at three the next afternoon with a handful of paper and a well-sharpened graphite pencil, practically radiating eagerness in spite of an obvious effort to look calm and competent. He'd seen JD attempt the same thing with even less success, and the similarity set him to wondering just how old his small petitioner was; there being no polite way to ask her, however, he was forced to set his curiosity aside – and anyway, he was reasonably certain she was younger than Vin.

Settling himself back in the same spot he had occupied the day before, he thought back over the stories Grey Owl had suggested – a mixture of both Seminole and African tales – and decided to start at the beginning. "Ready, Miss Julie?"

She beamed at him. "Yes sir."

 _Definitely_ younger than Vin. "All right then, once before the world was born…"

 

By Friday the story of Panther was almost complete, and Josiah was impressed with the large-printed pages Juliet had already finished – she had even left room for pictures, and the two of them had been busy filling in the blanks with stylized images reminiscent of those found on cave walls all over the world.

The pictures had been his idea; when he first suggested it, Juliet had admitted with some embarrassment that she 'couldn't draw at all'. Three days of intermittent observation had given Josiah an edge when it came to interpreting her expressions, so he realized at once that she thought the story needed illustrations as well but hadn't wanted to bring it up since she wasn't able to provide them herself. And she had been so delighted with Josiah's primitively-drawn pictures that the ex-preacher had actually been embarrassed – not a feeling he was used to, at his age. "Miss Julie, you are far too easily impressed," he scolded lightly to cover himself. "Do that in front of a younger man and you'll wind up married before you know it."

She blushed a little but shook her head, patting charcoal pigment onto the drawing of Panther with a careful finger. "Not something I'll ever have to worry about."

Josiah frowned slightly, surprised by the flat statement that could mean so many things. Curiosity got the better of him. "And why would that be, Little Sister?" he probed gently, wondering if she would answer.

Juliet sighed. "I'm too small," she said, looking at the picture and not at him. "I'm twenty-three, but I look like a little girl; a man wants a woman, not a little girl."

He could hear the quotes around the words and wondered who had said them to her – someone who was trying to hurt her, of that he had no doubt. He hid his flash of anger at the unknown person or persons, however, and made a show of considering her until she blushed again; then he shook his head. "Miss Julie, you may be small, but you do _not_ look like a child." He let a touch of teasing creep into his tone. "Except when you're standing next to me, of course."

She hid a giggle behind one pigment-smudged hand and turned another one of those meltingly grateful looks on him before returning her attention to the pictures; Josiah chuckled and got back to work as well, and soon they had filled in all the spaces with earthily-colored illustrations and were both liberally smudged with the same colors. The ex-preacher had excused himself to go draw a bucket of washing-up water from the well at the back of the church when he saw something he wasn't expecting.

It had been a while since Josiah had seen a vision, or even a truly clear sign, so it took several moments of staring before he realized what he was looking at. The small oriole pecking around in the shade of a sheltering rock had not really drawn his attention until a larger, darker bird suddenly swooped down and drove it cowering under an overhang, pacing back and forth and complaining loudly, occasionally taking a sharp peck at the smaller bird. And even then Josiah might not have made the connection if he hadn't at that point heard a deep male voice inside the church…

Nathan had come in quietly, deep in thought over the conversation he had just had with Mary Travis; when he saw the small woman sitting alone on the floor at the front of the church his thoughts sharpened in that direction and he walked right up to her, frowning. Juliet, also lost in thought, didn't hear him approach; she was thinking about the story and wondering if she should try it out on Ceddy and Cissy before taking it to the village's children when a man's deep voice startled her out of her thoughts. "I guess this must be what I've been hearin' about. Why you so interested in teachin' a bunch of Indian children, anyway?"

Juliet looked up…and _up_ into the face of what appeared to be a very angry black man who was almost as big as Josiah. She froze, eyes widening with fright, and slowly pulled the papers she'd had in front of her protectively against her chest. Her mouth opened but no sound came out.

The reaction irritated Nathan; the inhabitants of Four Corners had gotten used to him, and he didn't like being reminded that in some people's eyes he was 'different', even frightening. "What, ain't you never seen a black man before?" he asked crossly. "Don't look at me like I'm goin' to eat you, girl; I just want to know what you're up to. Now get on up off of that floor and answer me." He extended a large hand to help her up, and was shocked when she skittered back away from him with a shake of her head and pushed herself to her feet with Josiah's rough pulpit at her back, looking for all the world like a rabbit cornered by a hungry coyote.

That was when Josiah returned through the side door; he took in the situation with a glance and reacted immediately, striding across the room with a curt greeting for Nathan and then placing himself marginally between the healer and Juliet, looking down at the frightened young woman with a reassuring smile. "Miss Julie, I'm most sorry; I forgot I was supposed to meet with Mr. Jackson this afternoon. Shall we finish what we were doing tomorrow?" She nodded at him, still silent and wide-eyed, and bolted without looking back. Once she was gone from the church, Josiah dropped his smile. "Problem, Nate?"

The healer was frowning at the heavy wooden doors and missed the look his friend was giving him. "I was over talkin' to Miz Travis an' she mentioned somethin' about that little girl wantin' to do some kind of teachin' out at the village; thought I'd best come by an' find out what was goin' on. She got you involved in this thing too?"

"And mighty proud to be," the big man rumbled. Nathan's head jerked around, and Josiah smiled. "It's a damned clever idea she had, Grey Owl thinks so too – he's been worryin' about how to get some kind of education for the children. Says he can't wait to meet the white woman who respects the ways of people not her own."

Nathan snorted. "You sure about that, Josiah?"

Josiah thought about getting angry and decided it wasn't worth it; experience had shown him that it would just make the stubborn healer dig in even harder – Nathan was a man who didn't like to be wrong. "Yes," he responded calmly. "Wouldn't be helping her if I wasn't."

 

They rode out for the first time the following Wednesday, and it turned out to be an eye-opening experience for them both. Juliet had brought the large horse a lump of sugar – to 'gain his trust', she said – and once the astonished animal had received an excessive amount of petting Josiah helped Pharisee's new best friend into the saddle and swung up behind her.

Vin came in as they were about to ride out, took one look and grinned. "First time ridin', ma'am?" At her embarrassed nod and Josiah's surprised exclamation, the tracker came over and patted the horse's neck. "Looks like ya already made friends with him, that's good. Now, Josiah here ain't gonna let you fall, but what ya do is hold on with your knees, not your hands – an' let him get down first, then he'll help you. Got that?"

Juliet sat up a little straighter in the saddle, following Vin's advice and adjusting her balance accordingly. "Thank you, Mr. Tanner," she said sweetly. "I will remember."

"Course you will," he replied, pleased. "An' you're most welcome, Miss Julie. Ya'll have a nice ride."

"We'll be back this afternoon," Josiah told him, knowing from the look in the younger man's eyes that he should be expecting a talking-to when he returned. They rode out, waving to JD as they passed the jail, and were soon making their way up the trail. The preacher cleared his throat. "Little Sister, why didn't you tell me?"

She hung her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sanchez; I know I should have. But I know that in this part of the country it is expected for a person to have some experience with horses, and I didn't want you to think I'd be more trouble than I was worth." She turned her head to look up at him mournfully. "You aren't _very_ angry with me, are you?"

"I'm not angry at all," he reassured her. "And I certainly don't think you're trouble, so don't be afraid to tell me next time, all right?"

"All right," she agreed. "Did I cause you trouble with Mr. Tanner?"

He chuckled; she was observant, he'd give her that. "Not really. You were right, you see; folks in this part of the country do assume that everyone knows how to ride." A thought struck him. "Miss Julie, if you don't mind my asking, where exactly _do_ you come from?"

"A place where the equestrian arts are a pastime of the wealthy," she said quietly. "A place very different from here." There was silence for a moment, and then he felt her shudder slightly. "I was living in Denver, however, before I came to Four Corners."

 _But you're not from there, are you, little one?_ He tried again. "I've been there once; pretty place, Denver. You have family there?"

Juliet shook her head. "I was goin' to school."

"Oh. Must've been lonely for you." He kept his tone casual, almost disinterested, but inwardly he was anything but; the slight thickening of the Southern honey on her tongue had been too light for Georgia and too sharp for Texas – Mississippi, maybe, or Louisiana? Ezra might be able to tell, he'd have to ask him. "It's quite a city, but there were too many people there for me. I believe I prefer the wide open spaces."

"Ah liked the city at first," she replied softly. "You're right, though, Denver is anythin' but friendly. Four Corners is much nicer."

Josiah stopped himself from asking what Denver had been nicer than, and instead used the rest of the ride to tell his passenger about the country they were riding through. Some of the questions Juliet asked surprised him at first, but he quickly realized that he was talking to a town-dweller born and bred and broadened his explanations to compensate. _Looks like I was assuming again_ , he thought. _I gotta remember not to do that._

 

Grey Owl was waiting when they finally reached the village; the old man walked out to meet them and stood by watching as Josiah helped Juliet off the back of the horse. "First time riding?" he asked kindly.

Juliet blushed, and Josiah flinched. _Why is it obvious to everyone but me?_ the ex-preacher wondered. Aloud he said, "Grey Owl, this is Juliet Moore; Miss Julie, this is Grey Owl, the chief elder here at the village."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Grey Owl said, taking the dainty hand that was offered to him and bowing over it slightly. "You are welcome in our village."

"Thank you," Juliet replied. "Thank you for allowing me to come."

The older man reluctantly released her hand and smiled down at her. "I will let the children show you around; they have been eagerly awaiting your arrival." He waved an encouraging hand at the cluster of children who had been watching from a slight distance away. "Nishola, I am sure your new teacher would like to see the village."

That was all the encouragement the children needed; the tight, curious cluster broke apart and reformed around Juliet, a serious-faced boy of eight or nine in the lead. "My grandfather says you are here to teach us."

They young woman cocked her head at him thoughtfully. "Only if you want to learn. Do you want to learn to read, Nishola?"

He thought about it very seriously. "I do not know. I am going to be a great warrior someday; is reading something that a great warrior does?"

"Most definitely," Juliet assured him with equal seriousness. "The more you learn the more wisdom you will gather and the greater you can become."

Nishola considered again. "I can gain wisdom by reading?"

Juliet nodded. "Reading is one way; it is a way to learn from the wisdom of people you will never meet."

The boy's eyes widened; then he beamed and grabbed her by the hand. "Come, we will show you our village and then you can teach us." A much smaller child tugged at his leg, and he frowned. "What about Osceola? I think he is too little to learn wisdom and reading; he is only two."

"Two is still old enough to learn by listening," Juliet said with a smile. She went down on her knees and held out her hand to the toddler, who only held back for a moment before curiosity drew him to her; when she stood up, he was balanced on her hip and happily playing with her braid. She held out her free hand to Nishola again. "Shall we?"

 

Grey Owl watched the young woman being led away by the children. "You said she can cook, too?" he asked the astonished man beside him.

Josiah raised an eyebrow. "I hope you aren't goin' where I think you are, my friend," he rumbled mildly, recovering himself. "She's young enough to be one of your granddaughters."

The older man smiled. "She reminds me of my first wife…but that is an old man's fantasy. If you are looking for a husband for her, however, a few of our young men are about the right age…"

Josiah nodded, smiling himself. "I've been considerin' a few of the prospects back in town as well," he admitted. "I thought Brother Vin might be about right, but I haven't had opportunity to test the waters yet."

Grey Owl looked thoughtful. "Hmm, Vin Tanner would be a good choice; he has a kind heart and a gentle spirit, but he is wise in the ways of the world and strong enough to protect her. I take it she has no family?"

"None that anyone knows of, but she hasn't been in Four Corners quite a month yet." The ex-preacher sighed. "Don't know, though; I can't imagine any family letting a little thing like her go off on her own – especially out West like this."

"They could be dead."

"Yeah, the War – thought of that." Josiah had also thought of her reaction to Nathan the week before, and had wondered what Rosa May – or even Ezra, for that matter – would have made of it; he hadn't had opportunity to mention the incident to anyone. "She's from somewhere in the South, I think, so it would make sense."

"Indeed." The elder shook his head. "Well, I am certain we can find her a new family; I have a good feeling about this one. Come, let us go sit by the fire like two old men and plan our strategy – the children will take care of her in the meantime."

 

It was nearly an hour later that Josiah and Grey Owl pulled themselves away from their matchmaking schemes and went in search of the main object of their discussion. They found Juliet and her 'class' sitting off in a corner – the same corner, Josiah remembered abruptly, where Ezra had kept the same children occupied two years ago while their elders prepared to defend themselves against a madman. Osceola was happily ensconced in her lap and watching with wide-eyed fascination while she used a stick to write each child's name in the dirt in large, careful letters.

Josiah and Grey Owl sat down nearby and watched the fun; after the writing lesson came the reading lesson, and Juliet was almost smothered by hugs when she told the children that the 'book' was theirs to keep. "How would you practice your reading without a book?" she teased over their protestations that they had nothing to give her. "It's enough for me that you want to read!"

"We should still give you something," Nishola protested, frowning. "It is not right to receive something and give nothing in return; you leave something here, you should take something away with you." He looked around and finally turned troubled brown eyes on Grey Owl. "Grandfather? What can we give her?"

The old man made a show of thinking about it, then smiled and ruffled his grandson's hair. "She gave you a part of herself, perhaps you should give her a part of our village," he suggested. "That way she will always know she is welcome here."

The boy frowned again and hurried off to confer with some of the older children. After a few moments of arguing, an excited shout let everyone know they'd come up with something; word passed through the rest of the children, and they quickly surrounded their teacher again. "We want you to come back," Nishola stated happily. "My grandfather is right, we want you to remember you are welcome here…so we will give you an Indian name! Then you will always remember!"

Juliet was visibly stunned and her indigo eyes grew suspiciously bright, but she smiled. "I would be honored to have an Indian name," she said softly. "What do you think it should be?"

That brought several frowns back, and Josiah was hard-pressed to hold back his laughter as the children began to study the now-blushing young woman with serious intent. More arguing flew back and forth, much of it in Seminole, but finally one little girl who had been reverently toying with Juliet's long black braid began to gesture excitedly to the others. Soon they had all gathered around to stare at the softly curling tip of the braid and to touch it with interested brown fingers while debating something amongst themselves.

The decision apparently made, they scattered again and came back with a variety of items that made Grey Owl hide a chuckle behind his hand; Josiah's grin widened as he realized that they were oh-so-solemnly recreating a child's version of the traditional naming ceremony. Nishola took it upon himself to fill his grandfather's usual place, and to her credit Juliet stayed as solemn as the children as she was renamed 'Little Feather'. The solemnity ended, however, as soon as the ceremony did; Little Feather almost disappeared under the fervent hugs of her small students, some of whom seemed quite determined not to let her go. Josiah and Grey Owl went back to the fire and laughed themselves silly.

 

They finally left the village as the sun was beginning its long slide toward the horizon, and Juliet chattered happily about her experiences during the day as they slowly rode back to Four Corners. "The children showed me the village garden," she told the still-amused ex-preacher. "We had a community garden like that back home, at the church, and all of us helped take care of it."

Josiah's interest peaked, but he kept his voice calm and soothing. "All of you?"

He felt her nod against his chest; as the long ride home had progressed, Juliet had gradually leaned back against him without noticing she was doing it. "Um hmm, Father Thomas said that serving others was the same as serving God, and that a lack of social responsibility was the root of most of the evils in the world."

"Sounds like Father Thomas was a wise man," Josiah replied, clamping down on a surge of exultation as another piece of the mystery fell into his lap; now he knew her religion as well as the name of her parish priest. "You know, Miss Julie, I can do the Mass for you on Sunday mornings if you like; I do it for Miss Inez sometimes."

"You do? That would be nice," she said sleepily. "Ah haven't been to Mass in ages – not since he died."

So much for knowing the name of her priest. "I'm sorry to hear that, Little Sister. You must miss him."

Another nod. "Ah left home after…after it happened; ah just couldn't stay there anymore." There was a short silence. "You remind me of him."

Josiah smiled. "I'm flattered – but I'm not a priest."

"You're a man of God," she corrected.

He sighed. "Used to be, once."

"Why 'once'? Why not now?"

Josiah looked at the far horizon thoughtfully, considering his answer. "I've sinned," he said finally. "And by my sins, I forfeited the right to call myself a shepherd of the Lord's flock."

Her drowsy chuckle surprised him. "Silly," she scolded gently. "You've…lost your faith in God's mercy; if He forgives the sheep their transgressions, how much more the shepherd?"

Shocked did not adequately describe the effect the young woman's words had on the larger man; Josiah felt like the softly murmured words had stabbed straight into his heart. And by the time he found his voice and his wits again, he realized that Juliet had fallen asleep. Tightening his hold on her, he planted a fatherly kiss on the top of the small black head that rested trustingly against his broad chest. "Somewhere out there," he whispered. "I think that Father Thomas is very proud of you, Little Sister."

 

Josiah joined the other men at their regular table in the saloon later that evening and immediately looked straight at Vin, waiting. The tracker grinned. "Do I even have'ta say it?"

"Nope." The ex-preacher took a drink and then thoughtfully eyed them all. "But I'm sure someone will anyway."

Chris almost smiled. "Well, we all talked about it already and kind of figured you'd have already punished yourself enough. Never thought to ask her, huh?"

"You know what they say about assumin'," Josiah answered. "And I repented of an awful lot of that particular transgression on this trip." He shook his head. "Brothers, it seems to me we have a little mystery on our hands."

"Bein' of less than average stature myself, I'll take offense on the lady's behalf for that remark," Ezra chuckled. "So tell us, what else have you been makin' erroneous assumptions about regardin' Miss Moore?"

"How she ended up here by herself would be an obvious one," Chris observed quietly. "Got any ideas, Josiah?"

The older man sighed. "I'll tell you what I know – she doesn't give much away, that's for sure, almost like…"

"…like she's runnin' from somethin'," Vin prompted. "Figured that already – lots o' folks head West to leave somethin' behind. Go on."

"She was going to school in Denver before she came here, but she's got no family there – I think she ran to Denver from someplace else. She's from somewhere in the South, which explains some other things," he looked pointedly at Nathan, who snorted and made a face. "None of that, Nate," Josiah admonished softly. "Some Southerners got good reason for not trusting a colored man – especially some Southern women."

Ezra cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "She's from Louisiana, I think," he said quietly. "I take it that she neglected to conceal her accent at some point durin' today's excursion, Josiah?"

The ex-preacher nodded, cocking an eyebrow at the gambler. "Thought you might know; I figured it was either there or Mississippi. You know where in Louisiana, how'd she put it…oh yeah, 'the equestrian arts are a pastime of the wealthy'? She said it was different from here – real different, apparently."

Ezra thought about it. "Could be New Orleans, but her accent isn't right. Horses aren't used much down in some of the coastal communities, but I don't see how she could be from there." He saw the questioning looks and shrugged. "That's Cajun country; if she belonged there, she'd still be there. Maybe Baton Rouge or Shreveport, perhaps?"

Josiah nodded slowly. "It would fit," he said. "She's obviously a city girl, but I think it must have been a small one because she said Denver 'wasn't friendly'."

"It ain't," Buck observed, toying idly with his glass. "'Specially not for a girl on her own, school or no school. She say what she was studyin'?"

"Didn't have to." The ex-preacher grinned. "If that girl ain't a teacher then I ain't never seen one."

"Assumin' again," Chris drawled with a faint smile. "Thought you done repented of that already?"

"You didn't see her with those kids at the village today," Josiah chuckled. "And I talked to Mrs. Potter Sunday after church, she says the twins are so eager for their lessons that they hang around the door waitin' for Miss Julie to come home – they jumped all over her when we got back tonight, acted like she'd been gone a year."

"Oh, you mean the same way they act when Ez goes over there to play tea party," Vin commented slyly.

The gambler's face flamed bright red. "Ah've told you a hundred times, ah do _not_ go out of mah way to play with those precocious little matched siblings!" he insisted. Vin cocked his head at him with a knowing grin and Ezra suddenly found his whiskey to be the most absorbing thing in the room, muttering, "That was different; it was her doll's birthday party and ah was formally invited to attend."

"Oh, well I guess that there makes all the difference in the world," Buck teased. "So I'm guessin' that was the 'important engagement' you had to keep last month, huh? I seem to recall you sayin' that you were headed for an afternoon of 'fine food and fascinating conversation'."

If possible Ezra's face grew even redder, but a dangerous glimmer appeared in his green eyes. "So ah did, Mr. Willmington, so ah did. Howevah, it appears to me that ah've been selfish with the experience; perhaps the next time ah encounter Miss Cecily ah shall have to hint to her that yourself and Mr. Tanner are feelin' a bit left out, shall I?"

"Ezra!"

"Aw Ez, you wouldn't…"

The gambler smiled into his whiskey. "Want to wager on it, gentlemen? That sounded suspiciously like a dare…"

"Boys." Josiah decided to stop the game before it went any farther; he traded an exasperated look with Chris. "Now it appears to me that we've got more important things to talk about."

"I'd say," Nathan seconded, draining his glass. "Me, I want to know what went on at the village today."

"What we went for, learnin'," the ex-preacher answered. "Like I said, those kids took a right shine to Miss Julie; looks like we'll be goin' back next Wednesday and probably every one after that until the bad weather sets in come autumn."

The healer shook his head. "You shore are puttin' a lot of faith in a girl that won't tell anyone a thing about herself, Josiah."

"Actions speak louder than words," the big man replied placidly, sipping at his whiskey. _Not gonna get mad, not gonna get mad_ …

Nathan snorted. "Don't know about that; me myself, I won't trust a person's actions 'less I know what their intentions are for doin' 'em."

Vin started to say something, but ended up drowning his comment with the remaining amber liquid in his glass when Buck gave him a warning kick under the table; Chris gave both men a quelling look. "What did Grey Owl think, Josiah?"

The big man's grin came back. "He said she reminded him of his first wife…and he also mentioned that a few of the young bucks up there are gettin' about marryin' age. I told him I had some thoughts along those lines myself." He took another drink and reached for the bottle to refill his glass. "Oh, and he had the kids give her an Indian name." Nathan choked on his whiskey and Josiah thumped his back solicitously. "Okay there, Brother?"

The healer gave him a dirty look and muttered something under his breath; this time, Vin had to kick Buck under the table. JD frowned at them both and shook his head. "What did they decide to call her, Josiah?"

"Little Feather," the ex-preacher answered. He could see Ezra scanning the room for an excuse to escape the table and swallowed a sigh. _Damn Nathan anyway_ – _and damn Ezra as well for being so god-damned honorable_. "Wish you boys could've been there to see it; those children just couldn't do it without tryin' to duplicate the whole naming ceremony. I thought Grey Owl was going to bust a gut tryin' not to laugh at them – and they kept asking him for advice, which made it even worse."

The tension around the table eased slightly as each of the men pictured the scene as it must have been that afternoon. "What did Miss Julie think of it?" Vin wanted to know.

Josiah's grin softened into a fond smile. "She had tears in her eyes," he told the tracker, eyeing him closely. "She's a tenderhearted little thing; it'll have to be a special man that takes that one to wife."

Ezra narrowed his eyes at Josiah and then burst into a peal of laughter. "Run like hell, Vin!" he chortled. "I think you are under consideration as a possible match for the young lady."

It was Vin's turn to choke; he glared suspiciously at Josiah. "You keep your matchmakin' to yourself!" he growled. "I ain't lookin' to get married, Preacher."

Josiah was nonplussed. "Never said you was," he soothed. "She is about your age, though…"

"So is JD, an' I don't see you lookin' to marry me off to him!"

The men all roared, and JD scowled at him. Buck snickered. "I don't think you're his type, Vin – purty long hair or not."

Vin went as red as Ezra had a few moments before, and this time it was Chris who called a halt. "Okay, that's enough – I swear, you boys are gonna push this too far one of these days and one of you's gonna get shot…" Ezra whispered something to Vin that dissolved the two of them into helpless laughter and Larabee glared at them. "Something you want to share, boys?"

"Nope," the two men chorused together. Ezra stood up, straightening his coat. "I…I think I'll go for a walk in the desert air; would you care to join me, Mr. Tanner?"

"Reckon I would, Mr. Standish – I think it's gettin' a mite dangerous in here." Vin pushed himself to his feet and grinned at the gambler. "Aint'cha gonna offer me your arm? And I thought you was a gentleman…"

Ezra snorted and straightened his hat. "You aren't _my_ type either; don't give yourself airs. Any of you gentlemen care to join us on our soiree?"

Buck drained his glass and stood up. "C'mon kid," he said, swatting JD with his hat. "We'd better tag along – someone's got to protect Vin's virtue."

JD slapped the hat away. "The day I see you protecting someone's virtue, Buck…I will buy me a hat just like Ezra's."

Ezra's voice raised in mock outrage over that, and the bickering continued to be heard even after the four men had exited the saloon's swinging doors. Chris just groaned and poured himself another whiskey, and Josiah continued to chuckle into his, shaking his head; they both knew that Ezra would soon be patrolling the town's quiet streets and Vin the dark hills just beyond, and that JD would retire to the jail for the night while Buck kept him company until Ezra and Vin came back – at which point the ladies' man would head off to live up to his name. Nathan would eventually go back to the clinic, and the two of them would sit in companionable silence until the saloon closed down. Just another quiet night in Four Corners…just the way they liked it.

 

Sunday came, and Juliet and Inez were at the church for mass at an hour that saw most of the town still asleep. Josiah intoned the ancient words over the flickering candles and gave Communion to both women, seeing the peace fill both lovely faces as the familiar ritual reassured them of their place in the kingdom of heaven and the boundless love of the Savior who had granted it to them. _How much more the shepherd_ , he heard again, and carried that thought around with him for the rest of the day along with the disturbing realization that he wanted his faith back.

Josiah had returned from a long, contemplative patrol that afternoon when he was startled to hear something moving around behind the church. Hand on his gun, he crept around the corner of the battered building to spy out the intruder; one good look and his head jerked back, then he looked again to make sure. A large smile creased his grizzled features, and he very quietly moved back into the church and went down into the basement to resume his repairs. The small woman busily digging a garden in the arid churchyard worked on, unaware of his presence.

Much like the church's poorbox, the garden soon began to receive a lot of surreptitious, if sporadic, attention, mainly from individuals who refused to go near the building for any sort of religious reason – again, just like the poorbox. No one ever mentioned it, but Josiah's sharp eye noted the quiet comings and goings with growing amusement. A neat rack for garden tools appeared after the casual passing of a man dressed entirely in black, a rough but serviceable bench was put in place by a long-haired tracker riding out on patrol, and stable leavings were delivered to a convenient spot by a man wearing a shiny tin star. A frequent visitor to the local brothel left bundles of brightly-colored fabric scraps for warning away birds at hours best described as ungodly.

Josiah's favorite, however, was the self-proclaimed rejecter of menial labor; surprised by the gardener while ignominiously kneeling in the dirt with trowel in hand, the resultant scene began with stammers and giggles and ended with Ezra hauling buckets of water from the well in his shirtsleeves while Juliet tried to brush the dirt from his red velvet jacket. The rediscovered preacher made himself a more visible presence after that for propriety's sake and began to think that his carefully thought out list of potential husbands might just have been short one name.


	3. Chapter 3

Josiah had been 'chaperoning' Ezra's weekly visits to the church garden for more than a month, and the preacher was beginning to feel the stirring of the demon known as Impatience. He was sitting in the saloon with the other six men and studying the Southerner over the rim of his whiskey glass while the demon whispered improbable plans for hurrying things along in his ears when one of the local drifters slipped through the batwing doors and approached the table, glancing around nervously. "Think someone's breakin' into Potter's store," he whispered. "He looked big…"

The crash as Ezra's and Josiah's chairs hit the floor startled the saloon into silence, and both men rushed outside, drawing their guns as they hit the still-swinging doors and rushing down the empty street towards the dry goods store. The other five men followed close behind them.

The sound of a high-pitched voice yelling out something in a language that wasn't English broke the night's silence, and the gambler and the preacher both quickened their pace. "Ezra, that sounds like…"

Another flow of language. "Good lord, she was Cajun after all!" the gambler exclaimed. "I didn't think…"

They came in sight of the scene and both skidded to a halt, frozen. A large, unkempt man stood in the street with one dirty arm wrapped around Mrs. Potter's daughter Cecily and a gun in his hand; the little girl was too frightened even to cry. Mrs. Potter herself stood on the boardwalk pale as death with one hand clutching a wooden support and the other keeping a tight hold on her son to prevent him from leaving her side. But it was the figure poised in the center of the scene that took the men's breath away. "She walks in beauty like the night," Ezra whispered. "Of cloudless climes and starry skies, and all that's best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes…"

Josiah found he couldn't fault the younger man's poetic assessment. Juliet had obviously been readying herself for bed when the break-in occurred; her dark hair was unbound, her too-large cotton nightgown slipping off one white shoulder and her small feet bare. The full moon's silver glow had transformed her into a glorious pagan idol carved in alabaster and ebony with glowing lapis eyes, her perfect, beautiful face filled with divine fury; the gun she held clutched in both hands was the only incongruous element. "Ezra, is that what I think it is?"

The gambler nodded unhappily. "If you think it's a Colt Peacemaker, then yes, it is – probably the one Mrs. Potter was orderin' for that idiot bank manager. Good lord, it'll be a miracle if she even manages to fire it."

"It'll be a miracle if it doesn't break her arm if she does," Josiah countered. "What's she saying? It's been a long time since I been to New Orleans…"

To his surprise, Ezra grinned. "Ah'm rather glad of that at the moment; let's just say that the young lady has a rather more…colorful vocabulary than might be expected.

"Elle permettre d'aller, vous le fils dégoûtant d'un bitch! Ou je soufflerai vos balles de dieu-damned de!"

Josiah's eyes widened. "I…see what you mean – guess it hasn't been as long as I thought."

By this time the other five lawmen had ranged themselves around the scene, guns at the ready; but everyone hesitated to break into the situation as long as Cissy and Juliet were in the middle of it – and Juliet didn't even seem to be aware of their presence at all. The outlaw, however, was a different story; seeing death in the hard faces surrounding him, he decided to attack where he thought the threat was weakest. "Foreign, huh?" he laughed. "Me, I like that. Now why don't you put down that big gun, little girl, and me I'll let this kid go and take you instead." Juliet didn't move, and he shook his head. "Now, that ain't no way to be; ain't like you could fire that big ol' gun anyway – ain't like you could hit the side of a barn if'n you did." He was slowly walking forward, grinning, dragging his hostage with him; so intent was he on the small woman in front of him that he didn't see the silent exchange going on between Cissy and her brother. The sudden pain in his arm was a shock, and he had jerked the injured appendage away instinctively, flinging the little girl from him like a rag doll. Looking down and seeing the neat curve of small teeth marks, he cursed and lifted his gun…

A single shot roared out loud as thunder, and the outlaw's body dropped twitching into the street; Cissy rushed into her mother's waiting arms.

Juliet had been thrown down hard by the huge weapon's explosive kick; to the amazement of the seven lawmen she caught the gun up in her right hand and kept it trained on the fallen man while climbing shakily to her feet, her left arm held tightly against her body. She took two staggering steps forward and looked down; her hand released the gun like it was red hot and flew to her mouth instead, an expression of the most abject horror flooding her face just seconds before she collapsed in a fluttering heap of white fabric.

Ezra reached Juliet's side a heartbeat later, barely sparing a glance at the nearly headless corpse beside her as he scooped the small woman's limp body up in his arms. "Mrs. Potter, is Miss Cecily unharmed?"

The wide-eyed woman nodded, hugging her now sobbing daughter tightly. "Just frightened, I think. Is Julie…"

He stood up, his normally controlled face tight with concern. "We need to get them inside and warm," he told her, already striding toward store. "I'll see to Miss Moore."

"What do you mean, you'll see to her?" Nathan interjected, moving to head the gambler off. "You a healer now? I'll…"

"You'll get out of my way," the smaller man told him firmly, not breaking stride. "I'll send for you if she needs you, until then stay away." He disappeared into the store, closely followed by the Potters.

Josiah caught Nathan's arm before he could follow. "You heard the man, Nate," the large man rumbled. "Come help us with this other fellow."

Nathan glared at his friend in disbelief. "That fellow don't need my services, Josiah! Now I don't know what that damned Southerner's up to, but…"

"You speak Creole, Nathan?"

The amused question brought the ranting healer up short. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

Josiah continued to drag him away from the store, hiding his anger behind a practiced facade of amused condescension. "Miss Julie was speaking the language of Southern Louisiana, my friend, a dialect also understood by our resident gambler and, to a lesser extent, myself. Now, seeing as how the young lady reverted to her mother tongue during this horrific experience…"

Nathan dismissed the idea. "Don't make a damn bit of difference what language she's speakin'! What the hell would a con man know about treatin' shock? I've half a mind…"

"Obviously, Brother," the preacher interrupted dryly. "If your treatment for shock involves scarin' the hell out of your patient; somehow I don't think that a large black man would be the most reassurin' sight in the world for a frightened Cajun woman to wake up to – or did you forget which side of the line Louisiana was on? And Miss Julie is skittish around you on a good day…"

"All right, all right," the healer grumbled, giving in ungracefully. "You've made your point, I'll stay out. I'm sure Mrs. Potter will send for me if anythin's wrong – I don't trust Ezra to."

  
At that moment, sending for Nathan was the furthest thing from Gloria Potter's mind, and her own trust in the Southern gambler was unquestioning. She had trailed Ezra through the store and into the sitting room, settling into her rocking chair with her trembling daughter while he deposited his own precious burden on the chintz-covered couch and pulled a quilt down off a shelf to tuck in around her. He laid a gentle hand against Juliet's pale cheek, brushing back a strand of black hair, and then began gently feeling along her left arm. "Nothing feels broken," he said with relief. "Her wrist is swelling a little, though; we should probably wrap it up. Are you all right, Miss Cecily?"

The little girl's eyes were wide, but she nodded. "What did Miss Julie say to that bad man?"

Ezra smiled at her reassuringly. "She told him to let you go or else, darlin'," he said quietly, paraphrasing his translation for small ears. "He very foolishly chose 'or else'." He saw the storekeeper's questioning look and filled in the blank without being asked. "She was speakin' Creole, Mrs. Potter, a dialect from the southern part of Louisiana." He was removing the silk scarf from around his neck as he spoke and began expertly wrapping Juliet's sprained wrist. "Our little lost lamb must hail from that charmin' spot as the language is not spoken elsewhere."

"Is she going to be all right?" Gloria asked softly as he finished tying off the scarf and rubbed the cold little hand gently before replacing it under the quilt. "After what happened, I mean? I saw the look on her face…"

"As did I," the gambler replied, moving down to check the bottoms of the dainty bare feet. "This sort of shock must be handled quietly and gently in order to avoid incurrin' more damage."

She cocked her head at him. "Do I hear the voice of experience, Mr. Standish?"

"Unfortunately." He quickly changed the subject. "I will be needin' some clean water and cloth to take care of these abrasions – Miss Cecily probably has some as well from bein' out in the street."

Gloria motioned for Cedric to fetch the requested items and stood up, tucking her shawl in around her daughter. "Should I make some tea, Mr. Standish?"

He shook his head and busied himself poking up the fire in the small stove. "Warmed milk with honey would be bettah. Make enough for yourself and young Mister Potter as well; it will help you sleep after all this excitement."

She smiled down at the bent head fondly, hearing the unfortunate voice of experience again and deciding not to comment on it. "I'll be back directly, then."

Ezra had just finished cleaning the small cuts on Cecily's feet when Juliet began to stir restlessly, murmuring disjointed phrases in Creole; he was immediately by her side, one hand keeping her left arm still under the quilt and the other cupping her cheek. "Il va très bien, ma chere," he said softly. "Vous êtes sûr maintenant, tout est met à l'amende. Se réveiller pour moi?"

"Qui…" Her eyes fluttered open and slowly focused on his face; a delicately confused frown crossed her features. "Mr. Standish? Mais j'étais hors de…" Returning memory widened her indigo eyes and she jerked upright against his gently restraining hand. "Que l'homme…Cissy!"

"Elle est sûre, ma cher. Voit?" He shifted slightly so she could see the still wide-eyed little girl curled up in the chair. "See, she's fine, just fine. How are _you_ feeling?"

Juliet blinked at him, scooting back against the sofa cushions. "My arm hurts, but not too much. What happened?"

"You fainted." She looked embarrassed and he shook his head. "No need to be ashamed, cherie; you've been through a very tryin' experience. But everything is all right now."

Those large eyes stayed locked on his, reading the honest reassurance there, and she made a visible effort to relax. Then the frown came back. "Wait, we were speaking…tu parle Creole?"

He smiled gently. "Luckily I'm the only one here that does; some of the terms you applied to that gentleman weren't exactly…ladylike, even though they were perfectly accurate." A faint blush colored her pale skin and he let his smile widen mischievously. "Personally, however, I would have added _mère-aime_ _ bâtard_ as well just to be complete."

That made her giggle, and when she couldn't stop he pulled the quilt up around her and tucked her head in against his shoulder, holding her tightly until the hysterical spasms gave way to helpless, trembling sobs. "It's all right, my dear, it's all right. Just relax and let it go, it's all right."

"I killed him, I didn't mean to. I wasn't aiming for his head, I _wasn't_ …"

"I know, my dear, I know. The gun was too big for you, it's not your fault." Ezra stroked her tangled hair and crooned soft reassurances in her ear until he felt the tremors ease somewhat, then fished out his silk handkerchief and gave it to her. When the hand holding the damp white square dropped back into her lap he carefully sat her back against the cushions and rearranged the quilt, then took the warm cup being offered by Mrs. Potter and wrapped Juliet's fingers around it before guiding it to her lips. "Drink this, my dear, it will help you get warm again."

She sipped the warm milk and slowly began to relax. Serious dark blue eyes framed by wet lashes suddenly looked up into his concerned green ones. "Mr. Standish, am I…do you need to arrest me now? I killed that man."

"Arrest _you_?" Ezra couldn't conceal his shock at the idea. "Miss Moore, that _bon à rien bâtard_ broke into the store and laid hands on Miss Cecily; I am sorely tempted to go down to the undertaker's and vent my outrage on his craven remains." He wrapped his hands around hers, still holding the cup. "Far from arrestin' you, I should be givin' you my day's wages for bringin' the miscreant down." He shook his head. "Good lord, seven lawmen standin' around useless while one brave woman in her nightgown brings down a rabid specimen of the outlaw breed – it's the stuff dime novels are written of, cherie! I can see it now, The Heroine of Four Corners by Jock Steele…"

Juliet flushed rose and Cecily and Cedric were giggling helplessly as Ezra continued to expound on the contents of the imaginary novel. Mrs. Potter smiled, looking over the gambler's shoulder to the two men who stood in the doorway with expressions of utter amazement on their faces. The tall man in black slowly echoed her smile and held a finger to his lips, then firmly led the astonished young sheriff back toward the front door.

  
Once they were back outside, Chris headed for the jail with JD in tow. "I want you to go through the wanted posters, pick out anyone who could be a match – no way this fella wasn't wanted somewhere. I'll send Josiah down to help you, him and Ez were closest." The young sheriff frowned, and Larabee shook his head. "Not tonight, JD; you can ask Ezra when he's finished at the Potters', but I already know what he'll say. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough for Cissy and Miss Julie to have a look."

JD was still frowning. "Should be, but…I don't know, Chris; doesn't make sense to me that a guy like that would be workin' alone."

Larabee looked at the younger man with fresh respect, and a slight smile softened his hard features. "Good thinkin'," he said. "Vin mentioned last week that he thought we might have a pack of outlaws passin' through the area; it's been awful quiet lately, but maybe that's because they're still hangin' around."

"Don't like the sound of that," JD commented, pulling stacks of posters out of the desk. "You think we should double up on patrol?"

"Not yet; we'll have everyone keep a sharp eye out, though." Chris left JD to his task and headed back to the saloon, stopping off at the undertaker's to send Josiah down to the jail and asking the older man to come find him when he was finished. Exiting the undertaker's, Chris gave the dry goods store a long, considering look before continuing on his way.

  
It was several hours later when Josiah came back to the saloon, and Larabee kicked out a chair for him. "No luck?"

Josiah dropped into the chair with a discouraged sigh. "You ever notice that the outlaw breed all look a certain amount alike, Brother?"

The gunslinger snorted but didn't deny it. "How many possibles, then?"

"At least twenty or so." Snagging the bottle that sat in front of Chris, the preacher took a healthy swig. "Caught Ezra comin' out of the Potters', he went down to the jail to have a look for himself – says he'll show 'em to Miss Julie tomorrow morning."

"Expected that," Chris said with a small, wry smirk. He cocked an eyebrow at Josiah. "Mind tellin' me how long you've known?"

Josiah shrugged. "Not really too sure how it happened myself; I must admit I didn't think of my boy when I was considerin' potential suitors for the young lady, but apparently Mother Nature knew better than I did. He's become a regular fixture at the church on Sunday afternoons, helping out and then walking her home – started after she caught him out there on his own one day, digging up rocks in the garden." Larabee's eyebrows went up in disbelief and the preacher chuckled. "It was a sight to behold, that it was."

"Wish I would've seen that," Chris said, relaxing into a grin. "Anyone else sparkin' her?"

"Nope. And I'll warn off anyone that tries."

"Good." Larabee smiled into his whiskey. "So I guess now we're just waiting for Nature to take it's course?"

Josiah's blue eyes twinkled. "Or for the opportunity to help it along – although from the look on his face tonight when he saw her standin' there in the street, Nature might not require much help."

  
The rest of the night passed without incident, but the next morning Chris rose at dawn and took the day's first patrol with Vin to see if they could spot any sign of outlaw activity in the low hills outside of town. The two lawmen were thorough in their search, and it was nearing ten o'clock when they rode back into town with the disquieting discovery that a band of six individuals had apparently been watching the town and had only left the area the night before. "Don't like it, Chris," Vin observed grimly while the two men saw to their horses in the livery. "That hombre from last night weren't just some random thief; looks like they sent him in for somethin' and then watched to see if he pulled it off, rode away cool as you please when he didn't."

"Yeah, but what did they send him in for?" Larabee mused, patting Blackie's neck absently. "Why Potter's store, why not the bank? It doesn't make sense." He sighed and shook his head. "Maybe we'll be able to figure it out once Miss Julie tells us who he was."

"If he's on one of them posters," Vin reminded him, ducking out of the stall and brushing himself off. "I mean, we know it must be a new gang 'cause all the old ones steer clear of our territory now; hell, no outlaw in his right mind just waltzes into Four Corners after what happened to the last few that tried it – we got ourselves quite a reputation as a bad place to be these days."

"That makes it even worse," Chris said with a grimace. "Means this new bunch may be targeting us and not the town. I sure as hell hope that bastard from last night was wanted, give us something to start with, at least."

The two men exited the livery and headed toward the hotel for a late breakfast, both deep in thought over the incident from the night before and the possible meanings of the sign they'd seen that morning; crossing the street they almost ran into Ezra stalking toward the hotel with the wanted posters selected the night before rolled up and clenched in one fist. Larabee raised an eyebrow at the agitated man. "You don't look happy, Ez; what's goin' on?"

Ezra scowled. "Take a deep breath, gentlemen."

They did, looking at each other with puzzlement. "I smell breakfast," Vin observed unnecessarily.

"Exactly," the gambler snarled. "Last night that woman interrupted a robbery and possibly a kidnapping, held an armed outlaw a bay, ended by shootin' said outlaw with a weapon much too powerful for her use and injurin' herself in the process…and she is at this moment ensconced in that damnable kitchen," he shook the roll of papers at the hotel, "cookin' breakfast! Mrs. Potter said Juliet was up and dressed this mornin' before she could stop her, absolutely insisted on goin' to work."

"Who insisted on goin' to work?" Josiah wanted to know; then he, too, sniffed the air and scowled. "She isn't…"

"She is," Ezra confirmed. "And ah am guessin' that she hasn't even told Mrs. Abbott about last night's goin's on."

"Most likely not, son," the preacher agreed. "Mrs. Abbott would have sent her right back home. You think she's tryin' to keep busy, not think about it?"

Sympathy softened the gambler's expression slightly. "Undoubtedly – and ah'm not your son." He sighed. "Well, last night's unlamented villain is not gettin' identified by us standin' around in the street. Shall we, gentlemen?"

The four men entered the hotel and were met by a wide-eyed Mrs. Abbott in the dining room. "Mr. Larabee, is it true? Did someone try to rob the dry goods store last night?"

The men looked at each other. "Did Miss Julie tell you?" Chris wanted to know.

The woman's eyes widened even more, and she shook her head. "Pete Collins told me this morning when he brought in the wood; Julie hasn't said two words to anyone all…" She gasped suddenly, one hand going to her heart. "Oh dear, is that how she hurt her arm? Did it happen during the robbery?"

"Mr. Larabee!" Mary blew into the room and zeroed in on the man in black. "I was hoping I'd catch you here! I just came from talking to Mrs. Potter, and she said that last night some outlaw tried to…"

"Yes," Chris interrupted, talking to both women. He raised his hand to forestall any more questions. "Yes, last night someone tried to rob the dry goods store and yes, he was stopped."

"By _Julie_ ," Mary added, tight-lipped, her sharp eyes on the three lawmen. "Mrs. Potter said she saved Cissy and got hurt in the process."

"She did." Ezra confirmed quietly. "It was the weapon's recoil; she wasn't big enough to control the gun, and it actually knocked her down when she fired it." He looked toward the kitchen and his jaw tightened. "And then she got up this mornin' and decided to come to work like nothin' had happened!"

Both Mary and Mrs. Abbott shared a surprised look at the gambler's uncharacteristic outburst, and Josiah hid a smile. Chris just shook his head. "Mrs. Abbott, we need to have Miss Julie look over these wanted posters – gotta get that hombre from last night identified before we plant him."

She looked confused. "But why can't you…" The looks on the lawmen's faces made her suck in a sharp breath, a gasp echoed by Mary as realization dawned. "Oh my goodness."

"Miss Julie is the only one who got a good look at his face," Josiah explained softly.

Mrs. Abbott gathered herself back together. "You can use the sitting room upstairs," she said briskly. "I'll just go make sure it's clear while you fetch Julie out of the kitchen."

Ezra immediately handed the roll of wanted posters to Vin and stalked off toward the kitchen; Chris jerked his head at Josiah and the older man hurried after the gambler. The gunslinger turned back from watching them to be met with Mary's demanding gaze. He swallowed a sigh and offered his arm. "Mrs. Travis."

She smiled. "Why thank you, Mr. Larabee. Now, why don't you tell me _exactly_ what went on last night – I wouldn't want to print anything in the paper that might be considered…less than factual."

Larabee's cool turquoise eyes warmed; he held out his hand for the wanted posters. "You go on with your breakfast, Vin; I'll take it from here."

The tracker grinned wickedly, passing over the rolled papers. "Reckon you will," he commented, and tipped his battered hat to Mary. "Ma'am."

"Mr. Tanner," she replied, and then headed up the stairs with Chris. Vin just shook his head and went into the dining room.

  
Ezra entered the kitchen after only the most perfunctory of knocks, but Josiah noticed that he was careful to announce his presence almost immediately. "Miss Moore?"

The young woman started noticeably but continued her work at the stove. "Mr. Standish…Mr. Sanchez! Do we have prisoners to feed over at the jail? How many? I'll get something ready directly…"

"No, Little Sister, no prisoners today," Josiah assured her. "We needed to talk to you about last night."

"And perhaps about your whereabouts this mornin'," Ezra added, frowning. "What, may ah ask, are you doin' here?"

She matched his frown but didn't look up. "Working," came the crisp answer. "This is my job, Mr. Standish; the world isn't going to stop for me just because I k-killed a man last night."

Josiah flinched; he was hearing quotes again, and he wondered if they came from the same source as the last set. Ezra noticed his reaction and gave him a look that said explanations would be demanded later, then turned his full attention back to Juliet. "That may be true, Miss Moore," he said firmly. "But that does not mean you haven't the right to let the world take care of itself until you regain your equilibrium – or at the very least, the full use of your arm."

Juliet's chin lifted and her lips set in a stubborn line. "Ah am not left-handed, Mr. Standish, therefore mah ability to work has not been impaired. And it would certainly not be acceptable for me to abandon mah responsibilities to Mrs. Abbott just because of a few sore muscles."

"A few sore…Miss Moore, ah should hardly liken a wrenched shoulder and a sprained wrist to somethin' as trivial as muscle soreness!" Ezra folded his arms across his chest and matched her expression with one equally determined. "And as to the proprietress of this establishment…"

"Oh!" Juliet's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh no, you didn't _tell_ her!"

"Someone else told her," Josiah soothed, moving closer to the young woman. "And she'd already noticed that you were hurt. I believe the question is, why didn't _you_ tell her, Little Sister?"

Juliet shook her head. "I didn't want her to know what ah…about what ah…" She swallowed convulsively, the flush giving way to a sickly pallor again. "It was so much like when he…when ah…ah just didn't want to _remember_. And this time it was _me_ that did…that."

The preacher put two and two together and got an answer that made him kick himself. _Father Thomas_ , he thought unhappily. _But now isn't the time_. _Later_ , he promised her silently. _Later, we'll talk about it_. Aloud he said gravely, "I understand; bad memories are the hardest to forget, aren't they, Little Sister?" She nodded, and he smiled gently at her. "We came to get you so you could look at some wanted posters, try to help us figure out who the robber was. Will the kitchen be all right without you for a little while?"

The distraction was obviously welcome and she looked around quickly, biting her lip in thought. "Ah could…" She began moving her cooking farther away from the hottest part of the stove, covering some and uncovering others. The oven was checked and a pan of biscuits pulled out and set on the worktable to cool. After a final critical look, the young woman pulled off her apron and hung it neatly on a nail beside the back door. "All right, things should be fine for a little while now. Are we goin' to the jail?"

"Upstairs to the sitting room," Ezra corrected, recovering himself; he would sort through his own surprising gamut of emotions later – and find out what it was Josiah knew that he didn't. He offered his arm. "Shall we?"

Juliet looked at his sleeve and then at her hands; she scrubbed her right hand against her skirt before taking the offered arm. "Thank you, Mr. Standish." She blushed again. "Please forgive me for being rude."

He smiled down at her, covering her hand with his. "Only if you forgive me for being presumptuous, cherie – it is not mah place to chastise you ovah your handlin' of last night's crisis. Now, let us go get this unpleasantness over with; ah'm afraid bein' in here around your cookin' has made me desirous of havin' an ungentlemanly large late breakfast, somethin' ah cannot accomplish satisfactorily without you in the kitchen."

Josiah walked behind them up the stairs, hiding a very smug smile.

  
The fifth wanted poster turned out to be the correct one, and the faceless corpse at the undertaker's became Ronald Dodd, wanted in Tucson for kidnapping and murder. Juliet had paled even further when she saw the charges under the picture. "Ah…ah don't think we should tell anyone else about this part."

There was a murmur of agreement, and Mary nodded. "No we shouldn't; Mrs. Potter and the children were frightened enough." She gave the younger woman a stern look. "But I believe it's time for you to tell _us_ exactly what happened last night."

Juliet flinched, and Josiah quickly moved to her side, going down on one knee beside her and catching her hands in his. "Little Sister," he said quietly. "We need to know; there might be more of them out there, and anything you recall could be of value."

Ezra leaned casually over the back of the couch, breaking off the reproving look he'd been giving Mary to smile reassuringly at Juliet. "You were gettin' ready for bed," he prompted gently. "What made you go downstairs?"

"A noise," she answered. "I'd heard Cissy go downstairs after a drink, and I was listening for her to come back up when I heard something that sounded…odd, so I went down to see what was going on." She took a deep breath. "I went into the kitchen first and she wasn't there, but then I heard her up front in the store and I heard her start to scream and then stop, so I ran…he was so big, and he had his hand over her mouth and he was laughing and telling her that she'd just have to be a quiet little girl because he wasn't leaving town without getting something out of the trip for himself." The three lawmen looked at each other in alarm, but Juliet didn't notice. "I remembered that Mrs. Potter had put Mr. Guffey's new gun up on a shelf behind the counter, so I grabbed it and pointed it at him and told him to let Cissy go." She shook her head. "He just kept backing up and I kept following him and I knew I had to keep pointing the gun at him or he'd get away and take Cissy with him, and he wouldn't listen to anything I said…"

"Um, ah believe that was the language barrier manifestin' itself, darlin'," Ezra observed. "He couldn't understand you; only Mr. Sanchez and myself could."

Juliet turned bright red, shooting a mortified look at Josiah; the preacher laughed and squeezed her hands. "That's what confession is for, Little Sister; I admit that I found your…observations of the man's character to be spot-on, but you should probably drop by the church on Saturday with your beads all the same."

The grateful look he didn't think he'd ever get used to made an appearance then, and Josiah heard Ezra catch his breath in surprise; it was all the preacher could do not to smirk. _I may be hopin' to marry her to you, son, but so far_ that _look is just for me; the day she looks at you that way, then I'll_ know _she's yours_. Aloud he continued, "Do you remember anything else, anything at all?"

Juliet started to shake her head and then stopped, dropping her eyes; the small shudder that ran through her body was clearly visible. "He…the way he looked at me, it was like he knew me."

A spark flared in Chris's eyes, but he kept his voice level. " _Did_ you know him, Miss Julie?"

"No." Her indigo eyes were wide and troubled. "Ah would have remembered someone like that, ah'm certain of it."

"I dare say!" Mrs. Abbott snorted, frowning at the lawmen and Mary. "Like Julie would know an outlaw like that, Mr. Larabee!"

"No, Mrs. Abbott, it's all right," Juliet broke in, looking even more troubled. "A person may meet many types of individuals in their lifetime; and as a lawman, he was duty-bound to ask me."

"As a lawman, he knows _exactly_ why that outlaw was looking at you like that," the older woman maintained. "And the fact that _you_ didn't just proves my point. Now, gentlemen, if that's all then Julie and I have to get back down to the kitchen to finish the breakfast – and then I'm sending her home. If you need anything further, you'll have to go through Mrs. Potter." Juliet's mouth dropped open, but at a look from Mrs. Abbott she closed it again and nodded meekly, rising from the couch and following her to the stairs. The others just stared after them, stunned, and heard a further scold delivered. "And before you go, I'm having a look at that arm, young lady…"

Ezra cleared his throat, trying not to laugh. "Chris, ah believe the monetary recompense for Mr. Dodd's successful demise is set at no less than three hundred dollars – a reward which by right belongs to Miss Moore, although ah do not believe the lady is aware of that fact. With your permission, after breakfast ah shall set about observin' the necessary formalities required to obtain it for her."

Larabee handed over the wanted poster with a shrug, his own expression carefully neutral. "Suit yourself – but have JD send the telegram, make it official."

Ezra saluted with a grin and tipped his hat to Mary before hurrying off, clattering down the stairs with more haste than dignity. Mary raised a questioning eyebrow at the man in black. "Chris? Is that about what I think it is?"

Chris shrugged again. "I just caught on myself after last night; Josiah's the one that knew." He smiled slightly at the older man. "He's been playin' matchmaker, it seems, and then a certain Southerner wandered into it and messed up his plans right proper."

"I wouldn't say that," the preacher demurred with a smile of his own. "I just didn't expect him to be the one, is all." He shifted his feet. "Um, Miz Travis, I find I need to have a word with Chris for a moment; will you excuse us?"

Mary nodded and left after a bare moment's hesitation; Chris locked eyes with Josiah and didn't like what he saw there. "What is it?"

In response, Josiah handed him a letter; the gunslinger took it, read it…and swore. "You just got this this morning?"

"Yep," the preacher said heavily. "I was on my way to tell you about it when we met up outside the hotel. Apparently the Baxter sisters escaped the confines of the mission about a month ago."

"Dammit." Chris scanned the letter one more time and then handed it back to Josiah. "So their last name was Baxter, huh?"

"So they said." Josiah's shrug said he didn't know whether to believe it or not. "Don't see that it matters much if it's not – at least the Sisters got that much out of 'em, which is more that we were able to do. I'm wonderin', though, if maybe they're part of the problem that's been hangin' around outside of town; Mother Esther says that they were always makin' reference to something they needed to 'finish', but she never could find out what it was."

"Couldn't be anything good," the gunslinger mused unhappily. Shaking his head, he slapped the larger man on the arm. "Come on, let's go run this past Ezra and Vin – maybe we can get some breakfast at the same time." He stopped halfway through the door and frowned. "How'd it go downstairs, anyway?"

Josiah smiled. "That is one tough little woman, Chris," he said admiringly. "I think she only fainted last night because the manner of Ronald Dobbs' demise brought back some bad memories – may have been the ones that drove her West, at that. Ezra went to light into her for comin' to work, and she told him that 'the world wouldn't stop for her' just because she killed a man last night."

Larabee's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. "God damn," he whistled softly. "I sure wouldn't have expected that."

"Neither did my boy," the older man observed, chuckling. "Should've seen his expression, Chris; Miss Julie sure does give his poker face a run for its money."

Chris just snorted. "About damned time, if you ask me – and I don't think Ez has realized it yet, either, or he'd be avoidin' her like the plague. Hope you know what you're doin', Preacher, tryin' to help Mother Nature out."

"Ain't been too successful so far," Josiah admitted, but he was still grinning. "But then, maybe I ain't had proper opportunity."

  
Josiah's next opportunity to give Mother Nature a helping hand came more quickly than expected when the town decided to hold a dance in honor of May Day, and he found himself more than a little upset when the young man he thought of as a son volunteered for patrol duty that night so that 'troublemakers wouldn't spoil the festivities.' Josiah stationed himself as doorwarden at the meeting hall and watched the moon rise unhappily, wondering why God was letting him down yet again; Juliet hadn't come to the dance either.

He was thinking longingly of a bottle of the wrong spirits to drown his disappointment when movement in the street caught his eye; a small figure in brown approaching hesitantly, appearing drawn by the music but unwilling to come any closer. The preacher felt a tingle go up his spine; something was going to happen, he just knew it.

A second figure joined the first, a man wearing a brilliant red jacket. He came up behind the young woman and apparently startled her; a solicitous hand shot out to ensure that she maintained her balance. Josiah retreated back into the shadows and listened hard while praying harder.

"Miss Moore, whyevah aren't you inside enjoyin' this little _fais_ _do-do_? Isn't the music to your liking?"

"It is, very much so." She looked away, embarrassed. "But I can't…I thought I'd come out here and listen, it's such a lovely night."

"That it is, but it appeahs to me that your education has been sadly lackin'," the Southerner said kindly, correctly divining the problem. "It is unforgivable that no one has evah taught so graceful a lady how to dance." She blushed rather obviously at the compliment and he chuckled. His gaze wandered to the quiet, empty street and a frown crossed his face as one duty warred with another; chivalry won out. He removed his hat and offered her his hand. "If I might be so bold as to offer my services…?"

Josiah almost cheered when Juliet turned a shy, wondering look up to the gallant man before her and, with a nod, placed her small hand in his. Ezra swept her into the cheerful rhythm of the music with a pleased smile.

Footsteps approaching behind him told Josiah that it was time to take full advantage of his position. He turned away from the door and headed the tall cowboy off. "Leavin' so soon?"

"Not for long, jest got to use the…" Over the older man's shoulder, Buck caught a glimpse of the dancing couple outside. The ladies' man grinned widely, a predatory gleam in his eye. "Well lookee there," he chuckled. "If that ain't just the sweetest thing I've laid eyes on all night. I think I'd better go cut in…"

Buck was surprised when a large hand firmly clamped down on his shoulder and kept him from going any farther. "I think it best that you stay inside for now, Brother Buck."

The ladies' man jerked out from under the offending hand with an annoyed frown, alcohol and the brushoff he 'd just gotten from one of the young ladies shortening his fuse. "And why the hell should I? It's a free country. Do him good to have a little competition, keep him sharp for next time."

Josiah gave Buck a look he'd never seen before, disappointment mingled with disgust. "You ain't the first person to say that about Ezra," he reminded the younger man, and was rewarded with a guilty flinch; the memory of Maude's all too efficient destruction of her son's saloon was still a sore spot, thank god. Then he sighed. "I've never preached to you regarding your lifestyle, Brother, but your current attitude smacks of the wealthy man stealing the poor man's lamb, and I'm goin' to insist that you feast on your own flock tonight." The strong hand was suddenly back on his shoulder, its grip now offering reassurance instead of restraint. "You're a good man, Buck, but we all have our weaknesses and I ain't gonna let you do something you'll regret later. Why don't you go have a dance with Miss Inez?"

Buck's head came up at the emphasis on the bar manager's name. "I never asked him to back off Inez," he snapped defensively.

"No, but he did," Josiah chided gently. "And now you're returning the favor. While you're at it, you might ask them to play something slower. A waltz might be nice."

Buck's grin came back. "Good idea, Preacher; my lovely senorita will think I did it just for her."

"No one says you ain't." Josiah shook his head as the man romped off to find Inez and turned his attention back to the moonlit scene outside with a relieved sigh. _Looks like I've done my part; now lets see if Nature takes its course…_

  
Juliet swept back into a gracefully sweeping curtsey as the reel ended, looking up hopefully for her instructor's approval. Ezra finished off his own equally graceful bow and nodded, extending his hand to her. "Beautiful," he complimented. "Terpsichore herself would be proud of you, my dear."

Her eyes sparkled as she took the offered hand and allowed herself to be drawn back into position. "Are you then my Apollo, Mr. Standish?"

His green eyes lit up with pleasure; he wasn't used to his literary references being understood, much less responded to in kind. "This is hardly Olympus," he chuckled. "Not a marble pillah in sight." The first strains of the next dance floated out to them on the gentle evening breeze, and he automatically pulled her closer and captured her other hand before freezing in place as the familiar notes coupled with the feminine warmth in his arms woke a dark and unpleasant memory.

Juliet had frozen, too, but with dismay. "Oh dear, this sounds like a waltz. Ah don't know if ah can..." Her wide indigo eyes became even wider with concern when she looked up and saw his face. "Mr. Standish, is somethin' the mattah?"

He just stared at her, for an instant seeing a different partner; an amber-eyed golden Valkyrie instead of a diminutive moon-kissed Artemis. Then he shook himself, pushing aside the line of fire that ran from his left ring finger to his heart and tightening his grip on the small hands that were politely extricating themselves from his own suddenly cold fingers. "Nothin' at all," he smiled reassuringly. "Merely rememberin' the last time ah waltzed; it was a long time ago. Now, this one will be easier still for you to learn; you need only let me guide your steps _so_." He led her without hesitation into the first available measure, at the same time relocating her left hand to his shoulder and dropping his right to her slender waist. Within moments she had relaxed into the pattern, gliding along with him effortlessly over the hard-packed earth, and he allowed himself to be carried away by it as well.

When the waltz ended – far too soon – Ezra looked down at the woman in his arms as though waking from a dream. It had been years, _years_ since he had allowed himself to indulge in what had once been one of his greatest and most frequently sought-out pleasures, and he suddenly realized that he had been mourning the loss of the dance itself almost as much as the loss of the cherished partner he had so often shared it with.

He stepped back to bow, matching Juliet's curtsey perfectly once again, and took a deep breath. "That was lovely, Miss Moore."

"Exhilarating, Mr. Standish," she agreed breathlessly. "Oh my, that was wonderful! Ah didn't know dancing could be like that – thank you evah so much!"

"It was mah pleasure," he replied, surprising himself with how much he meant it. "Ah regret to say that ah really must go back on duty now, but…might ah have the honor of escortin' you home?"

She took his arm with a sweet, shy smile. "Ah would appreciate that, Mr. Standish."

And there it was, that special look, shining up at Ezra out of those innocently lovely indigo eyes. The gambler melted, and Josiah smiled broadly and abandoned his post in the shadowed doorway; he'd offer up apologies for his doubt later and think up a suitable penance – preferably one that involved looking after precocious green-eyed, black-haired children while their parents waltzed in the moonlight.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Artemus Gordon wandered into the parlor of the railcar he called home and dropped absentmindedly into his favorite chair, shuffling a large bundle of mail through his hands. His partner, James West, glanced up from his own mail from where he lay sprawled on a comfortably worn chaise lounge. "It's hell being out of the country, huh?"

"Only on my correspondence." Gordon flashed the younger man a quick smile. "I thought you enjoyed our travels, James?"

"In the railcar, I do. When I have my own horse, I do. When it involves an extended stay in a tent in a very wet jungle, however…" He snorted and threw the missive he was holding on the floor before slicing open the next. "Had enough of that in the war."

Artemus  kept his outward expression carefully neutral, but inwardly he flinched. _Damn, I should have thought of **that** months ago_ , he chastised himself. Aloud he said casually, "Ah yes, Florida; my apologies. So I take it returning to our former campsite for our next vacation is out of the question?"

That earned him a wry smirk and a contemptuous snort. "Hell yes."

A half hour later and slightly more than halfway through his mail, Gordon found himself holding a coarse-grained beige envelope addressed in an unfamiliar female hand. "James, do we know anyone in a municipality called Four Corners?"

"Four Corners?" West roused himself from a very comfortable semi-sleeping state and frowned at the ceiling. "Not that I recall. Isn't that the town in Arizona that hired a bunch of gunslingers to keep the peace?"

"I believe so – but it's New Mexico, not Arizona." Artemus carefully slit open the envelope and extracted the two folded sheets inside; a shiny rectangle just slightly larger than a visiting card dropped into his lap and he retrieved it absently as he unfolded the letter and started to read. West saw one of his partner's eyebrows go up. "Well well, this is interesting. James, do you remember our friend Miguelito's little foray into the world of art?"

"How could I forget?" West countered, pushing himself up on one elbow. "I spent the better part of two days trapped in his little 'alternate world' – I almost died there! Don't tell me he's…"

"No, nothing like that," Gordon reassured him. He peered closely at the card in his hand and shook his head before tossing it to his partner. "There are certain similarities to this situation, though – both involve practical application of the scientific theory of alternate universes."

West took a good look at the card. It was coated in a light, semi-flexible substance that was clear as glass. He ran his finger over the slightly raised area that contained the photograph of a dark-haired young woman and then across the tiny, precise lines of type beside it.

> **Juliet Marie Moore**   
>  **892 Sycamore Dr Apt 410**   
>  **Denver, CO 80908**
> 
> **DOB 06/14/1978**

He flipped the card over and read a signed statement of intent which frankly alarmed him, then went back to the front and read the last line again. "Artie, does this mean what I think it does?"

"According to her letter, Miss Moore was born in the year nineteen hundred and seventy-eight," Gordon confirmed. "I believe the acronym stands for 'date of birth'."

"Time travel?"

"No, an alternate universe." He waved the letter. "Miss Moore claims to have been transported against her will – I gather rather abruptly – into our world from one which exists in relative parallel to it. She does not know what method may have brought her here, but she believes that the two young women who arrived with her would know more. She is certain that they are up to no good and believes that you and I might be able to stop them before they can follow through on whatever plans they have."

West took the letter and skimmed through it, frowning. "So she knows of us from her own world and wants our help?" he mused, thoughtful but not surprised. "Do you think Loveless could be involved? Or this could be a trap, some sort of hoax?"

"That doesn't look like a hoax," Artemus said, gesturing to the card. "I'll do some tests to make sure, but I'd say that it's genuine. As to Loveless…it's possible."

"With him it always is," West observed dourly. "You know Artie, considering that Miss Moore claims to have been kidnapped, this letter certainly doesn't sound like she's looking to go home: _If you would, Mr. Gordon, I would appreciate it if you introduced yourself as my Uncle in the event that you see your way clear to come here. I live in a small community now and must be mindful of my reputation_. Sounds to me like she expects to stay put."

"Yes, it does, doesn't it," Gordon said thoughtfully. "Of course, that could be because she doesn't believe she _can_ go home, but we also don't know what her own world was like. Ours may be the more desirable residence."

"Well, I guess the best way to find out is to ask the lady herself," West grunted, standing up and handing the letter and card back to his partner. "We should wire the sheriff at Four Corners to make sure she's still there – that letter is several months old, she might have given up on us. And I'll send word to Washington so they'll know what we're up to."

"I wouldn't tell them too much just yet," Gordon cautioned, pushing himself to his feet. "Miss Moore apparently trusts me, whatever the reason, and I don't want to betray that unnecessarily. I'll go get those tests started." Going into the laboratory, he sat on a convenient stool and studied the photograph intently for a moment before reaching for his notebook. "I certainly hope we're not too late, Juliet; Uncle Artemus can't wait to meet you."

  
Four Corners had been a little more lively since the night of the dance; more people could be seen out and about during the day or coming into town on one pretext or another. And in the early part of the warm, breezy evenings, it became not at all unusual to see hesitant young men, fresh from the bathhouse or a kitchen washtub, walking along the dusty streets with a few spring flowers in hand to meet an equally scrubbed and shy young woman with whom they would walk along the weathered boardwalk or sit in a dustless, well-lit parlor. As Buck observed rather resignedly, it was mating season.

In spite of the prevailing atmosphere of romance, when Gloria Potter answered her door that Monday evening it was all she could do to keep her jaw from dropping open in shock at the sight of the red-coated Southern gambler standing on her porch with a ribbon-bound bouquet of wildflowers in his hand and a hesitant expression on his handsome face. "Mr. _Standish_?"

He cleared his throat nervously. "Sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Potter, but…if ah could prevail upon you to give these to Miss Moore? We were discussin' a mutual fondness for flowers yesterday, and when ah happened upon these…well, ah thought she might like them. Would you…"

Gloria gently took the flowers from his ever-so-slightly shaking hand, doing her very best not to smile _too_ brightly. "Of course I'll give them to Julie, Mr. Standish," she said pleasantly. "It was very thoughtful of you to gather them for her." She happened to know that some of the blossoms grew no closer than halfway to Eagle Bend, none of them all in the same spot – and the shiny indigo-blue ribbon hadn't come from her stock. "Or would you like to give them to her yourself?"

She could have sworn that the normally unflappable gambler was blushing. "Um, no; ah would not presume to impose. And ah have to go…"

"Of course." Gloria decided to let him off the hook; the poor man was obviously beside himself with nerves. "And thank you again for being so kind to Julie; these lovely blossoms are certain to make her smile."

His own sudden unguarded smile surprised her all over again. "Ah hope so," he said softly. He tipped his hat to her and vanished into the evening shadows.

  
The next morning the gambler very obviously had something on his mind. "Brother Ezra?" Josiah asked. "Son, is something the matter?"

 _What if she didn't like them? What if she doesn't like me? Did I overplay my hand? _ Ezra was doing his best to look everywhere but toward the kitchen. He vaguely heard the older man's question. "Nothing a'tall," he replied distractedly. _If she would just come out here, if I could just see her…_

Now the preacher _knew_ something was wrong; the gambler never failed to correct what he called Josiah's 'paternal delusions'. His worries were interrupted by Vin's appearance at the table. " Mornin' Josiah, Ezra."

"Mornin', Vin," Josiah answered. Ezra nodded, sparing the tracker a glance before resuming his nervous survey of the room. "Anything going on?"

"Nope, purty quiet." Vin jerked his head toward the oblivious Southerner and raised a questioning eyebrow; Josiah shrugged. "Breakfast smells mighty fine this mornin'. That Miss Julie sure can cook."

"Indubitably," Ezra agreed softly, a small smile playing across his face. "The lady is a godsend to this uncivilized backwater." He missed the sudden look of understanding that passed between his two friends.

The tracker started to grin; he winked at Josiah. "Shore is," he said seriously. "Right pretty little thing, too."

"Beautiful beyond compare."

"And she's got those fine Southern manners," Josiah added, fighting to keep a straight face. "Miss Julie, she's a lady."

"Every inch," the smitten gambler sighed. "She is perfection." Sudden laughter from the other two pulled him back to reality and he blushed. "Ah mean to say…that is…"

"We know what you mean," Vin assured him with a wide grin. "Good Lord, Ezra, you've got it _bad_!"

"Mistah Tannah!"

Josiah patted his hand, chuckling. "Ain't nothing to be embarrassed about, son."

Ezra looked down at the table, pulling his hand away. "Unless the lady in question doesn't feel the same," he said softly.

The laughter stopped abruptly, replaced with a brief, concerned silence. Josiah finally cleared his throat. "Have you talked to her?"

A small shake of the brown head. "Not as yet. I gave her – through Mrs. Potter – a small token of my affections last evening, but I have yet to see…" Just then, the waitress bustled over with their breakfast. He stared at the single plate laid before him for a full minute before the discrepancy registered. "Excuse me, this isn't…"

The woman stopped and looked at him, frowning. "Are you sure? Julie said that that one was for you, but she's been a mite distracted this morning. If it's wrong I can…"

"Miss Moore said…" Ezra looked at the plate again, the significance of it's contents suddenly registering. "Yes, yes of course," he conceded happily. "This one is mine; forgive my error and," he looked up, eyes dancing, "thank Miss Moore for remembering."

She looked at him oddly but nodded before hurrying back to the kitchen. Josiah shook his head and reached for his coffee. "Brother Vin, I don't believe I saw sweet potato pie on the menu this morning."

"I believe you're right," Vin agreed, digging into his eggs. "Wonder what a body has to do to get some of that there pie?"

"Apparently something right," the preacher chuckled. "Feelin' better now, son?"

Ezra smiled rapturously, savoring every bite of Juliet's response to his first advance while joyfully plotting his second one. "I'm not your son, Josiah."

  
Wednesday morning dawned bright and clear, and Ezra was already in the livery when Juliet came in with Josiah. "Ezra?" the preacher said, more than a little surprised. "What has you up with the sun today, son?"

The gambler smiled brightly. "Why Mr. Sanchez, knowin' that you are expected in the village this mornin', I thought I might offer a ride to Miss Moore; I seem to recall you mentionin' yesterday that your trusty steed was not feelin' quite like himself."

Josiah held back a smile; the incident in question involved him calling Pharisee a cantankerous old crowbait after the horse tried to bite him while he was unsaddling it. Juliet looked worried. "That is very kind of you, Mr. Standish, but will your horse be all right carrying double on such a long ride?"

Ezra's eyes twinkled. "Your concern is appreciated, cherie, but unnecessary; Orpheus can easily bear us both – you may ask him yourself, if you like." He whistled once and the animal in question let himself out of his stall and came to stand by his owner like a well-trained dog. "Orpheus, would you have a problem carryin' an extra passenger on a short excursion this mornin'?" The horse snorted and shook his head. "So it would be acceptable to you to carry Miss Moore out to the village?" Orpheus nodded vigorously and the gambler grinned. "See? It's fine with him."

Juliet smiled delightedly, and Josiah shook his head; after two years of riding with Ezra, he still couldn't identify the commands that made his horse perform. "Much obliged to the both of you then," he told the younger man dryly, trying not to laugh.

He carefully stowed Juliet's books and other supplies in his saddlebags, watching out of the corner of his eye while the younger man helped her to mount; he saw Juliet's small white hand linger briefly in Ezra's slender gloved fingers, indigo eyes meeting emerald with a smile much warmer than courtesy required. The gambler swung up behind her with graceful ease and tipped his hat to Josiah with a dimpled grin. "Ready when you are, Mr. Sanchez."

Josiah simply nodded and mounted Pharisee, leading the way out of town. _More ready than I thought_ , he mused. _This promises to be an interesting day_ …

  
It was. The village children's joy knew no bounds when two of their favorite people rode in on what was hands down their favorite horse; Josiah laughed out loud as they clustered around the young couple, every child trying to gain their attention at once, and finally dragged them away amidst a cacophony of questions.

"I see that our fox has chosen a mate," Grey Owl observed, nodding toward the happy scene. "I am glad to see it."

"So am I," Josiah agreed. "'Bout time that boy settled back down."

"Some hearts take longer to mend than others," the old man said thoughtfully. He gave the preacher a meaningful look. "And a newly mended heart is a fragile thing, sometimes requiring protection."

Josiah glanced back toward the adobes and saw Rain standing off to one side, frowning at the red-coated Southerner's retreating back; he frowned as well. "Especially from the venom on a blind man's tongue, I expect," he said unhappily. "I should have known the poison would spread in this direction. How bad is it?"

Grey Owl shrugged. "Seeing Little Feather's happiness today should be cure enough – except for my goddaughter, of course; she will no doubt deny the evidence of her eyes."

"Understandable," the preacher sighed. "Nathan's been doin' that for a while now.

  
Juliet had left foolscap and writing implements behind on her last visit, and the children were tumbling all over themselves in their eagerness to show her what had been done in her absence. Little Osceola had claimed his usual spot on her lap and, cuddled warm and comfortable under her arm, was quickly falling asleep. Juliet, looking over the 'book' her students had made her, absently dropped a kiss on the top of his head as she felt him snuggle in closer to her side.

Ezra felt once again the sharp pain he'd felt the night of the dance, and was more than a little shocked by his own naiveté; it honestly hadn't occurred to him until that moment that the natural outcome of marrying again would also mean…an eventual return to parenthood as well. The idea shook him, and his hand of its own volition reached into his waistcoat pocket and fingered his watch before he caught himself and pulled it out again. If she agreed to marry him, then some day there would be another little voice calling him papa, another pair of tiny arms wrapping themselves around his neck of an evening as he tucked a small body into bed with a kiss. The thought very nearly brought tears to his eyes. _Ah have missed bein' a father as well as a husband, it seems…_

Feeling eyes on him snapped Ezra out of his reverie; Nishola was looking from him to Juliet and back with an odd expression on his young face. Abruptly, the boy nodded to himself and then gathered three of the older children off to the side for a quickly whispered conference. This time the scrutiny was for Ezra alone as four pairs of serious brown eyes appraised him thoughtfully and then turned back to whatever secret they had been sharing. A moment later they broke apart, and three of the conspirators scattered back out among the other children while Nishola approached Juliet. "Little Feather," he began. "We have a guest today; shouldn't we do something special since Red Fox is here?"

He immediately had her full attention. "Of course, Nishola, we certainly should. Where is Red Fox?"

The children erupted into a chorus of giggles, and Ezra turned almost as red as his jacket. "Um, that would be myself, Miss Moore."

"You, Mr. Standish?" She was at once puzzled and delighted by the idea. "The children gave you an Indian name too? Why didn't you tell me?"

He became even more embarrassed. "Well, it's more of a nickname, really…"

"We found him in a fox den," one of the little girls piped up.

Juliet started to smile and then saw that the children as well as the gambler were deadly serious. Nishola answered the question before she could ask it. "He was ambushed on the trail by many bad men, and they shot him! And his horse was gone but he still got away, and he hid in the desert until the men stopped looking, and then Bright Owl came back when we were playing hide and seek and kept saying 'fox' so we went to the old fox den she likes to hide in and found him there sleeping and we couldn't wake him up. Then Grandfather and the others came and they brought him back to the village because he was hurt and we were all helping to take care of him, and Bright Owl kept calling him Fox so we all started to call him Red Fox because of his coat, even Grandfather!"

Nishola  was out of breath by the time he finished his enthusiastically told story, and Juliet's eyes were as wide and round as saucers. "Oh my goodness!" she gasped, turning a troubled face to the man beside her. "No wonder you didn't say anything – what a terrible experience that must have been!"

"It wasn't so bad as it sounds," Ezra tried to reassure her. Actually, from his point of view, that was true; his flight through the desert was mostly a confused blur, and his only memories of those first few days in the village were distant impressions of heat and a dull ache in his side and of being made to drink something that tasted like boiled grass. A series of torrential rainstorms had been sweeping the countryside at that time as well, forcing everyone to stay indoors, and as a result he had been pampered and cosseted to within an inch of his life by the bored women and children of the village while he recovered – not an altogether unpleasant experience by any means. "The possibility of bein' ambushed is an occupational hazard in my profession – both of them, actually," he explained further, hoping it was a fact she could accept. "So is bein' shot at and occasionally havin' the gunman fail to miss; it comes with the territory, ah'm afraid."

"Yes, I understand that," Juliet responded, much to his relief; but her next words made his mouth drop open. "But I thought that was why lawmen didn't go into such situations without backup; you apparently were alone…" She looked like she wanted to say something else and didn't think she should, but there was a little frown on her face that told him she wasn't letting whatever it was go just yet; then she turned her attention back to Nishola and the frown became a smile again. "So, what did all of you think we should do?"

The boy had been confused by the brief but serious exchange between the two adults, especially since his whole intention had been to impress Little Feather with what a great warrior Red Fox was so that she would want him as a husband; he had heard his grandfather and Mr. Sanchez talking about finding her one, and the card-playing lawman with the golden smile and the wise horse would be perfect. Nishola hoped his plan would work. "We thought we would tell you a new story, the story about how the seven lawmen saved our village."

Juliet's eyes widened again, but she shook her head; Ezra almost sighed out loud with relief. "Nishola, it is nice of you to want to do something special for Mr Standish, but it would be rude to…"

Another of Nishola's accomplices stepped forward. "But…we wanted you to write it down! So everyone can read it!"

"You told us that one reason for books it to keep from forgetting things," Nishola reminded her. "I was only seven summers old when it happened, and I am already forgetting; some of the others don't remember at all! And with Red Fox here, he can make sure we tell it right – right, Red Fox?"

This time Ezra did sigh out loud. "That might be debatable," he said slowly. Juliet looked troubled, and he smiled to reassure her. "It's all right, ma chere; but perhaps it might be advisable to have Mr. Sanchez and Grey Owl join us as well, for the sake of…accountability."

The young woman's frown came back, drawing a little line between her eyes, but she again kept her thoughts to herself. "Nishola, if you would go ask Mr. Sanchez and your grandfather to join us?" The boy raced off, beaming, and Juliet set the rest of the children to work readying a place for the older men to sit. "You're certain about this, Mr. Standish?" she asked quietly.

"He's right about writing it down," was Ezra's answer. "Jock Steele wrote a dime-novel about it, but his version was…significantly less than factual, and it almost entirely ignored these people who should have been its focus." He took a chance and reached over to pat her hand. "Ah believe you can do bettah."

To his surprise, the small hand turned and clasped his, squeezing a gentle reassurance. "Ah believe you've left me little choice, Mr. Standish; it appeahs that more than just _my_ reputation may be affected by the outcome of this endeavor."  Nishola returned with the two older men before Ezra had sufficiently recovered himself to respond, and Juliet squeezed his hand one final time before releasing him and taking up her writing materials.

  
Telling the story of the defense of the Seminole village against the Ghosts of the Confederacy took up the entire afternoon and caused Ezra more than one uncomfortable moment – and Josiah as well as he watched Juliet's frown come and go and her indigo eyes get wider and wider; several times she shot a horrified look at the discomfited gambler, and the big preacher could only imagine that his carefully laid matchmaking plans had all just been knocked into a cocked hat. Conversely, Grey Owl seemed to find something about the situation terribly amusing but refused to comment on it, instead favoring Josiah with a knowing smile and a quietly murmured request to be invited to the wedding as they prepared to take their leave.

  
Juliet was quiet when they first set out on the ride home, obviously thinking hard about something – but she didn't stay quiet for long. "Mr. Standish?" Her voice was low and slightly hesitant, but the underlying current of determination in it that told him she would expect an answer. "Did you know any of those men? The ones who attacked the village?"

Ezra started slightly, the question taking him by surprise; he saw Josiah's puzzled expression and raised eyebrow and wondered what the man had been expecting Juliet to ask him. "Perhaps," he answered slowly. "There was at least one man there ah thought ah recognized…and of course, ah knew Colonel Anderson by reputation." Josiah's mouth dropped open, and Ezra allowed himself a small, pleased smile. "You know, cherie, you are the first person who's evah thought to ask me that question."

He could hear the frown in her voice. "Ah would think it would have been obvious," was the answer. Then she stiffened with a little gasp and twisted around to look up into his face with an outraged expression. "You mean they all thought that you…"

"Just ran off like the self-servin' coward ah am? Ah'm afraid so, my dear." Ezra chuckled and tightened his arm around her waist on the pretense that she might lose her balance. "Although ah believe Mr. Larabee must have had an inkling of mah moral dilemma seein' as how he didn't shoot me on the spot when ah returned."

"He told you not to run out on him again," Josiah said slowly, suddenly understanding. "It didn't make any sense the more we got to know you, but at the time we all just thought you must've gone after the gold…"

The gambler's grin widened as Juliet turned shocked, indignant eyes on the preacher. _She looks like a kitten gettin' ready to hiss_, he thought. _It seems that someone doesn't like to see injustice done; ah shall have to remember that_ … "Assumin' again, Josiah?" Ezra inquired casually, and felt the small woman relax as she heard the amusement in his voice. _Hmm, but you don't let that protective streak cloud your reason or blind you to what's goin' on; my dear, you just stepped ahead of almost everyone ah know_. "Ah did stop to have a look at the mine on my way out, out of curiosity." he admitted. "Considerin' the instability of the shaft, ah wouldn't be surprised if the original excavator was buried somewhere inside it – the first shot from that damnable cannon almost brought the ceiling down on top of me. But minin' as a vocation, _me_? Ah much prefer to pick  mah gold up in a nice clean saloon, thank you very much, and let more foolhardy souls have the pleasure of wrestin' it from the bowels of the earth."

Josiah chuckled and shook his head. "That's my boy."

Ezra sighed theatrically. "Do you hear that?" he asked Juliet in a long-suffering tone. "The man developed this indefensible delusion of paternity not long after ah met him; at first ah interpreted it as bein' a disparagin' comment on mah height." He aimed a mock glare at the preacher. "Of course, sometimes ah still wonder."

"Ah don't think so," Juliet observed seriously, looking an apology at the preacher. "Ah don't believe Mr. Sanchez would be so callous in his dealin's with a friend…and he doesn't speak of Sheriff Dunne that way."

"Quite right, Miss Julie," Josiah agreed, even more amused now that he saw what Grey Owl had been seeing: Juliet's little hand clasping Ezra's reassuringly and the bemused look on the gambler's face as he tried to process what was going on. _Gotta_ _be a whole new experience for you, son_ , he thought, watching the two young people out of the corner of his eye. _She obviously ain't one to let anything slide if she can help it; I wonder what's gonna happen if Nathan ever lays into you in front of her?_ A shiver rippled up his spine at that thought, the chill wind of premonition, but Josiah shook it off. _Naw_ _, Nate ain't that lost to reason_…

  
When Ezra left the saloon that night to make his habitual patrol of the dusty streets, he was still contemplating all the thoughts he'd had earlier that day. Marriage, parenthood, his reputation, the more unpleasant aspects of his job…and running through it all, Juliet. Throughout the whole surprising day they'd just had, the woman he'd fallen in love with had yet to react the way any other woman would have to a single one of the shocking things she'd heard about him; she'd been accepting, she'd been understanding, she'd thought things out…she'd been angry on his behalf because no one else had apparently accepted, understood or thought. And when she'd tried to smooth out one of the small contentions between himself and Josiah, it had been all Ezra could do not to throw himself off Orpheus' back and beg her to marry him on the spot.

 _And I might have_ , he reflected, walking silently around the bank to check the side door, _had I a proper ring with me at the time_. Juliet deserved a ring. _And she deserves a husband who doesn't make his livin' spendin' every night behind a poker table_, his conscience scolded him, sounding remarkably like Rosa May. _Or who lives in 'bachelor lodgin's' above that same saloon_. Ezra had to agree with that; Juliet deserved a home of her own, and – although he would never entirely give up his cards – it might be time to once again adopt a more respectable profession for her sake as well. Four Corners was growing, hanging up his shingle as a lawyer there could prove just profitable enough to provide the status he wanted for his wife while dovetailing neatly with his job as a peacekeeper. And as to poker…the gambler grinned, thinking of the high-stakes poker game he'd heard about taking place in Eagle Bend in two days. He needed a ring, a new set of lawbooks, and a little more working capital than he had at the moment to purchase a house in town and bring it up to his standards, but he wanted to reserve the valuable cache of liquid assets secreted in his room for another purpose; a few days in Eagle Bend should be enough to take care of everything to his satisfaction, assuming that Chris would give him the time off…

Light and a flash of white from an attic window caught his eye, and he looked up to see the object of his plans leaning on the windowsill of her room above the store and apparently watching the stars, completely oblivious to his presence. Ezra stopped in his tracks and smiled at the sight, claiming it for himself alone; and once again the soft silver-blue light of moon and star caressing alabaster skin and ebony hair moved him to poetry. "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? 'Tis the East; and Juliet, she is the sun." She started and blushed deeply and he hastened to make amends. "My sincere apologies, Miss Moore; I was carried away by the moment."

The affection in her shy smile warmed him through and through. "You needn't apologize, E…Mr. Standish, you just surprised me; I never expected to hear Romeo call to me from beneath my window." One slender hand pushed the fall of dark hair back over her shoulder. "It is such a lovely night. It must be a pleasure to do your duty on a night such as this."

 _Oh, lately it has been._ Aloud he answered, "Most definitely,  cherie. Ah already find myself lookin' forward to my next patrol – assumin' this fine weather holds, of course."

She laughed, a delicate, magical sound in the moonlight. "Of course." Her hand rose to the window sash, white skin glowing briefly golden as the lamplight touched it. "Good night, Mr. Standish. Be safe."

"Ah shall certainly endeavor to do so," he replied, tipping his hat as she pulled the window closed. "Good night, Miss Moore. Pleasant dreams." He waited until her light was extinguished before resuming his patrol, humming a waltz under his breath. He failed to notice the brooding figure that stood watching him from the shadows near the boarding house.

  
Nathan frowned when he saw Ezra, dressed for a long ride, walk purposefully into the saloon early the next morning. He quickened his pace to catch up. _Damned Southerner, bet he's tryin' get out of duty again for some poker game somewhere. It'll be good to see Chris knock him down a peg or two_ – _and I gotta remember to tell Chris about him botherin' little Miss Julie last night, too. Kinda surprised Mrs. Potter ain't put a stop to him hangin' around her…_

The tall healer pushed open the saloon doors and was surprised not to hear Chris Larabee's angry voice chastising the gambler. He was even more surprised to see the black-clad gunslinger clasp Ezra's forearm in a warrior's grip. "Sure you can stay out of trouble?"

Ezra tipped his hat, grinning. "I have every intention of doing so, Chris – and my incentive to return unharmed is unimpeachable."

"See you in four days, then," Chris said with a smile as the gambler retreated. "Good luck, Ezra."

"Ah'm countin' on it," Ezra called back over his shoulder. He brushed past the stunned healer with a smile and a nod and vanished into the street.

Larabee lifted his coffee to his lips as Nathan approached; the healer failed to notice that his leader's smile had disappeared. "Something on your mind, Nathan?"

"Why'd you let him go, Chris? Man's got responsibilities here! You know he's just going to find some poker game somewhere…"

"So he told me," Chris agreed, pouring a shot of whiskey into the coffee.

"And you still let him go?"

Chris allowed a hint of the smile to creep back as he contemplated the steaming liquid in his cup. "Man _is_ a gambler, Nathan."

The healer stared at him for a moment, started to say something, and then turned on his heel and walked back out of the saloon. Buck wandered over from where he'd been standing at the bar annoying Inez and dropped into a chair across from Chris. "Don't know about you, pard, but I'm gettin more than a mite tired of that."

Larabee slid the bottle over to him and slouched back in his chair. "Makes five of us, I think," he said grimly. "Never thought when all this started that the 'bigoted Southern bastard' would turn out to be Nathan. Vin's about ready to shoot him, and Josiah isn't far behind."

"That'll be me too, if the idiot upsets Miss Julie," Buck countered, taking a pull from the bottle. "That is, if'n I get to him before Ezra does."

"If'n you don't, won't be enough left of him to find," remarked Vin, pulling up a chair beside Chris. "Seen Ez already up and about – somethin' goin' on?"

"Big game in Eagle Bend," Larabee confirmed. "Raising a stake to do some 'important shopping', said he'd be back in four days."

"Shoppin'!" Buck plunked the bottle down and slid it across to the tracker. "Lookin to buy what I think?"

"Reckon so." Chris took the bottle from Vin and doctored his coffee again before handing it back. His smile had returned. "Always thought JD'd be the first one to get married off. Guess I was wrong."

"Guess there's a first time for everything," Buck teased, earning himself a mock glare from the gunslinger. But he sobered quickly. "When I was comin' back from Miss Annabelle's last night I saw Ezra out doin' his patrol, quoting Shakespeare under Miss Julie's window."

Chris frowned, knowing from his friend's grim expression that there was something more. "And?"

"Nathan was watchin' them from the boardin' house with that pissed-off look on his face. Heard him mutter somethin' about havin' a talk with Mrs. Potter. Thought you might want to know."

"God damn him," Larabee growled, feeling a large part of his good mood evaporate. "God damned self-righteous bastard probably will, too."

Vin pushed the half-empty bottle away. He looked worried. "We gotta stop him, Chris! You didn't see Ezra in the restaurant that mornin', waitin' to see Miss Julie's response to his courtin' from the night before; it'll damn near kill him if he loses her now."

"Loses who?" Josiah was standing behind Vin's chair, looking down at the three younger men with a suspicious frown. The looks they gave him reminded him of his premonition from the night before and he groaned. "Oh Lord no! What happened?"

"Nothin' yet, but we think Nathan's plannin' to interfere." Buck stood up, needing to move. "He was spyin' on the two of 'em last night, mutterin' to himself about havin' a talk with Mrs. Potter…" To the ladies' man's utter shock, the ex-preacher grinned broadly and sat down at the table. "Josiah, this ain't funny! We gotta do somethin'…"

Josiah reached for the bottle. "It ain't funny yet, Brothers, but it's about to be," he chuckled, dismissing yesterday's chill as a product of his age and taking a swig of the whiskey. "Sit down, Buck, and let me tell you boys a story."

Buck sat slowly, seeing his confusion reflected by Chris and Vin. Josiah cleared his throat. "Once upon a time, my brothers, there was an honorable man who made his living convincing people that he was a low-down lying snake." His grin widened. "He wasn't, of course; he was a gentleman with a heart of purest gold who didn't have a mean bone in his entire body – although he would deny that characterization with his last breath, just for appearances sake. Well, one day this man saw a lady who was brave and beautiful and good, and from that moment on his heart belonged to her, and he began to act in the manner of those who have lost their hearts. And when through his heartfelt attentions he had gained the love of his gentle lady, he did what any other honorable gentleman would do and," his pale blue eyes sparkled with amusement, "asked her adopted mother for permission to marry her daughter – permission which, I might add, was wholeheartedly given along with the good woman's blessing."

Dead silence. Then Chris Larabee threw back his head and started to laugh, quickly joined by Buck and Vin. "Oh god, Nathan's never gonna know what hit him; Mrs. Potter'll nail him better than I ever could."

"And then she'll tell Miz Travis and Miz Abbott what he said and he'll catch double hell from them," Buck added, tears streaming from his eyes. "Oh, I almost feel sorry for the poor bastard, he doesn't stand a chance against them two."

"Not a chance in hell," Vin agreed, wiping at his own eyes. "Josiah, when exactly did this happen?"

The ex-preacher grinned wickedly. "Yesterday after we got back; he came to me as soon as he had Mrs. Potter's blessing to ask me to do the honors if the occasion arose. Ain't never seen the man that happy. Asked me to keep it a secret for a little while, afraid someone would find out and tell Miss Julie before he had his chance to ask her proper."

"That sly devil," Buck said, shaking his head. "I just bet he will do it proper, too. Hope he does it where we can all see the show."

"He'll almost have to, for propriety's sake," Chris mused. "Ezra's been very careful of Miss Julie's reputation, making sure he didn't start talk – he won't risk it now." He grinned at Josiah. "Bet you're sure proud of your boy, aren't you, Josiah?"

"Couldn't be prouder," the older man agreed. A small, worried thought crossed his mind, and he put it aside to bring up with Larabee alone later, not wanting to spoil the jubilant mood of his fellow peacekeepers. _I just hope the boy's mother feels the same…_

  
The men broke apart after a while, separating to pursue their various duties around the town; Josiah kept himself busy working on the church, the familiar chores taking on new significance as he thought about the ceremony that would be held there in the near future. It wouldn't be the first wedding he'd performed in Four Corners, but Ezra was a part of his family and he wanted everything to be perfect. The shuffling of plans and ideas in his head lent a happy rhythm to his work throughout the long, hot day and kept him company on his afternoon patrol.

The sun was lowering, shadows beginning to fall when he finally returned to town. Josiah again felt that shiver run down his spine and settle as a cold feeling deep in his gut when Mrs. Potter came hurrying up to him outside the saloon. "Mr. Sanchez, thank god," she said breathlessly, grabbing his arm in her agitation. "You've got to help me. It's Julie…"

The cold feeling sharpened into icy claws. "What about Miss Julie?"

"She's gone, I don't know where." The normally composed woman was almost sobbing. "Mr. Jackson stopped by to talk to me, made all kinds of ridiculous accusations – I didn't know she was there! Cissy said she turned as white as a ghost and ran out of the house, and no one has seen her since. Oh, Mr. Sanchez, I'm so worried! If she heard even half the horrible things he said, there's no telling…"

"Nothing will happen to Miss Julie," he interrupted firmly, mentally cursing Nathan. His hand clasped hers briefly. "You go on back home, I'll find her and make sure she's all right."

She looked relieved. "Do you know where she might have gone?"

"I think so. Don't you worry, Mrs. Potter, we'll take care of it."

Apparently reassured, she turned and hurried back to the store. Josiah looked over the saloon's batwing doors and caught Chris Larabee's eye; the gunslinger was at his side in an instant. "Trouble?"

The preacher let the anger he was feeling show. "I'm a fool," he spat. "I knew Mrs. Potter could handle Nathan, but it never occurred to me that Miss Julie might be there to hear him. Mrs. Potter says she took off. I'm guessing she's sought the sanctuary of the church garden."

"You're probably right," Chris growled, his jaw tight. "I'll send JD and Buck after Nathan and meet you there. This ends tonight."

"Amen to that, Brother," Josiah agreed grimly. The two men headed off in opposite directions without another word.

  
Nathan was surprised, to say the least, when JD and Buck dragged him from his clinic and over to the church, one of Buck's hands clamped firmly across his mouth to keep him from saying anything. The large bulk of Josiah stepped out of the shadows to meet them, and one heavy hand took a firm grip on the back of the healer's collar. "I do not want to hear a god-damned word from you, understand?" the preacher snarled quietly in his ear. "Got somethin' here we want you to see."

The three men walked their prisoner as quietly as possible around the corner of the church, keeping to the deepening shadows. The dusty golden rays of the setting sun were gently gilding the simple garden on the building's west side with a soft haze of ageless light. The brown-clad figure crumpled sobbing against the crude wooden bench seemed so much a part of the scene that Nathan didn't quite realize the significance of what he was seeing until he heard JD's sharp intake of breath and Buck's muttered curse. They let him look for a long moment before pulling him away, but the hand wasn't removed from his mouth until they had gone far enough away to be certain of not disturbing the weeping woman. Anger flowed over him in a hot wave. "I knew this would happen, tried to tell all of you but no, you wouldn't listen! That worthless conniving snake…"

Nathan never saw the fist that collided with his jaw, but he was dizzily aware of Buck yanking him ungently back to his feet. "That was for Miss Julie," Josiah's quiet, rage-filled voice rumbled. "You went over the line this time, Nathan."

" _I_ went…what the hell are you  talkin' about, Josiah?" Nathan stared at his friend in disbelief. "That no-good Southern bas…"

He missed seeing the second fist as well, but was pretty sure it belonged to Buck. "And that was for Ezra," the ladies' man hissed furiously. "God _damn_ you make me sick, Jackson!"

This time it was JD who pulled him upright. "I can't believe you did it, Nathan," the young sheriff said disgustedly. "I thought you were a better person than that. Guess I was wrong."

"You weren't wrong, JD." The cold voice of the man in black startled them all. Chris was advancing purposefully from the direction of the church, his black hat shadowing his face and effectively hiding his expression. "He is a better person than that. But he's also a bigot, and a bigot can't think past his prejudice."

"Prejudice?!" Nathan couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You know that ain't right, I ain't got no problem with white folks!"

"Nope, but you damn sure got a problem with Southerners – one in particular." The healer had never until that moment been a recipient of the Larabee glare, and he experienced a sudden epiphany that revealed Chris Larabee as a terrifyingly dangerous individual. Those intense turquoise eyes never left his as Larabee issued his orders. "JD, you go tell Mrs. Potter that Julie's okay; Josiah, you're in charge of seeing that she gets home – she's just about cried herself senseless, from the looks of it. Buck, go back to the jail and wait for Vin, he's due back from patrol soon and you'll need to fill him in." A cold smile flitted across the gunslinger's features. "Nathan and I are gonna have a little talk, and then I'll join you boys in the saloon."

Three angry men smiled every bit as coldly as their leader before walking away; Nathan suddenly felt very much alone and vulnerable. He didn't realize he'd been backing away from the menacing figure in front of him until his back collided with an unyielding wall. _Maybe him doin' this to Ezra ain't so funny after all_, the healer thought regretfully. "Chris…"

"Don't wanna hear it," Larabee hissed; he was less than a foot away now. "I'm gonna talk, you're gonna listen; and when I'm done either your problem will be finished or _you_ will, got it?" The healer nodded, swallowing hard. "You better, Jackson, 'cause we're only  gonna do this once."

Chris got right to the point. "You stepped over the line this time, Nathan, and you are damned lucky Ezra ain't here or he'd have probably called you out – and he might still do it, and don't think any of us will try to stop him 'cause he's got the right." He grabbed the front of the healer's shirt and shook him when he saw denial flash across the dark face. "Did it ever occur to you that you might not know exactly what was going on? If you'd been paying attention to something besides your own opinion, you might have noticed that Ezra is head over heels in love with that little woman! We all knew he was courtin' her, and a damn fine job he's made of it, too; he's been a perfect gentleman and had a care for her reputation, done his best not to start talk. Hell, Mrs. Potter gave him her blessing just yesterday to ask for Julie's hand!"

Nathan's mouth dropped open in shock. "She did?" He shook his head. "Well why didn't he just tell me that? Damn fool never wants to explain himself…"

"He doesn't _have_ to explain himself to you, you arrogant bastard!" Chris exploded. "And god damn it, Nathan, you do not have the right to second-guess every move he makes, either! We've all seen you pulling this self-righteous crap for the past two years and no one called you on it because _he_ didn't – not because he's guilty, you idiot, but because he _doesn't want to fight_."

The healer's mouth twisted. "Cause he knows I'm right. Look at the way he acted when Miz Parker was here, would barely let me get close enough to her to say hello! Man don't want to face…"

"Son of a bitch!" Chris shook him again. "God damn it, Nathan, are you listening to yourself? There you go again, passing judgment when you don't know what's going on; Ezra was protecting _you_ from Rosa May, not the other way around! Woman ain't got no use for what she calls a 'Union Negro' and I can't say I blame her, not after she told us what'd happened to her during the war." He leaned in close, his face inches from Nathan's. His voice dropped to a near whisper. "You know, she's damned proud of Ez for even  bein' able to ride with you; apparently it was men like you that killed his family and burned his home. She says he kept his promise right well."

 _Men like…killed his…!_ "P-promise? What promise?"

Larabee smiled coldly. "Ever notice the wedding ring he wears, the one he never takes off? 'Course, I'm sure you did and just wrote it off as bein' part of some con he was runnin'. Well, it seems that before Ezra went off to war his wife made him promise not to 'harbor a desire for vengeance in his heart' if anything happened while he was gone. Man takes that promise damn serious, too; told Rosa May he had to come West to keep it." He backed off abruptly, and Nathan would have fallen if the wall hadn't been at his back. "I don't know if I could've done it, Nathan, and I'm pretty damn sure I couldn't have been civil to a smug bastard like you after those 'Union Negroes' murdered my wife and three year old daughter and the infant son I'd yet to lay eyes on and then kidnapped the housekeeper that treated me like her own son. I have to say that, in that respect, Ezra's a better man than almost any I've ever known."

Nathan's response was horrified silence, the picture Larabee had painted making him feel sick. How had he made such a mistake? Except for that first day in the saloon, the Southerner had never shown a hint of prejudice toward him, never once hesitated to ride beside him or share his company – yet he could see now that he had yet to return the favor. He had treated Ezra the way the gambler had refused to treat him, had accused an honorable man of the bigotry that he himself had displayed. He had spent his life claiming to be better than those who had enslaved him, only to mirror their vices once free. "Oh lord, what have I done?" he whispered. "How could I have been so blind?"

"That's what we've all been wondering," Chris said unsympathetically. "I reckon you'd better stay home to figure it out tonight; saloon might not be too healthy a place for you until the boys cool off some. And I'd recommend you steer clear of Vin for a spell; one thing about them Rebs, they stick together."

"But Vin ain't no…"

A harsh chuckle passed Larabee's lips. "The hell he ain't – why'd you think he'd been livin' with the Indians, Jackson? Little bastard didn't want to give up his guns, holed up in the Nation until the worst of it blew over then popped back out and started huntin' bounties. So if I were you, I'd be prepared to hear 'Dixie' played on that harmonica of his every time he thinks of it for a while – just be glad Ez won't sing it with him when you're around to hear, he's too much of a gentleman for that." His eyes narrowed, and Nathan felt like the black-clad gunslinger was looking straight into his suddenly unworthy soul. Chris nodded once, apparently seeing what he was looking for. "Get your ass on back to the clinic. We'll talk about what we're goin' to do about this mess tomorrow morning, bright and early. You come straight to the jail, you hear? Don't make me come looking for you."

Larabee turned on his heel without waiting for a response and headed back toward the saloon, his black duster flapping in his wake. Nathan sagged against the wall, shaking. "Wouldn't want that," he whispered. "Pretty sure I know what would happen once you found me."

  
After a long, mostly sleepless night, Nathan left the safety of his clinic and made his way to the jail, consumed by a sense of fearful anticipation he hadn't known since his days as a slave. But there was anger simmering inside him as well, feeding off his fear; anger spawned from the familiar, hated feeling of being powerless and at the mercy of others – and once again because of Southerners, at that. _Just like one of them fluttery Southern belles, get all hysterical over nothin' and get everyone all worked up_, he thought bitterly, remembering some of the young white women that had been at the plantation so long ago. _That's all we need 'round here, some helpless little female tryin' to get attention from all the menfolk an' causin' trouble left and right. 'Course Ezra's gonna like that, though, he likes to cause trouble his own self_ – _an' she's what he's used to, I'll bet. I'll bet he done seen somethin' he can use, there… _

Josiah took one look at him when he walked into the jail and shook his head. "I knew it; been workin' yourself up all night, haven't you? Managed to find a way to blame it on my boy yet?"

Nathan's mouth dropped open. "Looks like," Vin commented without humor. "You shore called that one, Preacher."

"Wish I hadn't," was the unhappy reply. "This ain't gonna be easy."

"Didn't think it was," Chris sighed, leaning back in the battered chair behind the desk and looking up at Nathan. "Was kind of hoping that a little of the sense he saw last night would stick, though; thought I made more of an impression than that, must be losin' my touch."

"I just had time to think is all," Nathan said, pushing back his anger in the hopes of getting them to see his point. "Time to reason things out. Now I don't know about all those things you told me last night, 'bout his wife an' all, but if they're true then that would explain some things."

"But you don't think they're true." Larabee's voice was very even. "So, you think Rosa May was lying?"

Nathan nodded, feeling relief; Chris was listening to him, listening to reason now that everyone had calmed down some. "He was her master, sounds like he must've treated her pretty decent for a slave; 'course she'd back him up. Ain't her fault. That was why I wanted a chance to talk to her alone like while she was here, try to make her see the truth."

"Remember hearin' you say that," Josiah rumbled quietly. "But that don't explain what happened last night. Why'd you go over and talk to Mrs. Potter?"

"Had to be done," the healer answered gravely. "Couldn't let him go on like that, hangin' around Miss Julie, it was indecent. 'Course Miz Potter didn't see it that way, but she'll thank me later."

"Wouldn't count on that," Vin said. "See now why you sent Buck an' JD out on patrol, Chris; this would've done gotten ugly if Buck was here."

"Didn't need Buck to make it ugly," was Larabee's reply. "It got that way last night, and now we've gotta deal with it. Any ideas?"

"Miss Julie ain't gonna get over this any time soon," Josiah told him. "She was so upset last night that Mrs. Potter and I couldn't hardly get two words out of her before she ran upstairs and hid in her room, heard her start cryin' again as soon as the door was closed."

Nathan shook his head. _Yep, just like those girls on the plantation; hysterics at the drop of a hat_. "I'll go have a talk with her…" he began.

"You go anywhere near her," Vin spat. "An' I'll take you apart with my bare hands."

The healer's self-righteous anger bubbled up again. "Oh yeah, that's right; you Rebs all stick together, I forgot."

Vin's blue eyes went flat and cold. "Ain't got nothin' to do with Ez an' I bein' _Confederates_ ," the tracker told him with obvious disgust. "Got everythin' to do with him bein' my friend – an' since my friend ain't here, you just stay the hell away from his woman or you'll answer to _me_."

"Vin." It wasn't quite a warning.

Tanner shook his head. "I ain't keepin' my mouth shut no more, Chris; hell, I ain't sure now that we were right to stay outta this as long as we did."

"Didn't think he'd take it to anyone else," Josiah rumbled. "And I knew my boy would stop him if he tried. Never anticipated this." _And ignored the sign that told me to, won't make that mistake again_…

"None of us did," Chris said grimly, frowning at Nathan. "Don't see how we could have – but you may be right, Vin, maybe we should've let him know sooner that we were gettin' tired of it."

"Don't talk about me like I ain't here!" Nathan exploded. "I'm standin' right here, you all can damn well talk to me and not around me!" He scowled at them all, but saved his deepest scorn for the man he'd thought was his best friend. "And dammit, he ain't your son."

The preacher's big body stiffened all over and his pale blue eyes turned icy. Chris and Vin exchanged a worried look; although Josiah would just smile when Ezra corrected his 'paternal delusions', none of the others had ever made the mistake of trespassing too far into what they realized was some very personal ground between the preacher and the gambler. Josiah didn't often allow himself to get mad, but when he did it tended to be very…Old Testament, and both men feared that the wrath of god might be about to visit itself upon the stubborn healer.

But to everyone's surprise, it didn't; the preacher just sat there, waiting. Nathan didn't make him wait long. "You can glare at me all you want, Josiah, but that ain't gonna change what Ezra Standish is, and what he is ain't good enough to be a good man's son; he's a troublemakin', lyin', cheatin' conman an' while I'd expect that silly little girl over at the Potters' to be fool enough to fall for whatever game he's playin' with her, I can't believe all of you fell for it too! You all know that his kind don't marry no decent woman 'cause no decent woman would have him…"

His voice trailed off when Chris turned a turquoise glare in his direction. "That what you told Mrs. Potter yesterday?" he asked tightly.

Nathan found himself feeling confused; he'd been certain that once he showed the others what was going on… "Yeah, that's pretty much what I told her. It's the truth!" But there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. "It's gotta all be a con, just some big cheat."

"'Course it does – else you'd be wrong, and that can't happen, can it, Nate?" Josiah sighed. "Well, that explains it," he said heavily. "Explains the look I saw in her eyes last night, explains why she told Mrs. Potter she was sorry."

"Explains why Miz Abbott stopped me in the street this mornin'," Vin said in a low, controlled voice. "She wanted to know what had gone on, said Miss Julie was as pale as a ghost an' not talkin' – just like after she shot that outlaw." He gave the healer a decidedly unfriendly look. "I told her not to worry about it, we'd be takin' care of it this mornin'."

"And we are," Chris said grimly. "Jackson, I don't want to see you anywhere near the hotel or the dry goods store until I say otherwise; you need somethin', you ask one of us. And I don't want you out walkin' around town too much, either…"

"Why don't you just confine me to the clinic like you did last night?" the healer asked bitterly.

"I'd like to." The answer surprised him; looking up, he saw a look of disgust in Larbee's eyes that rivaled his anger from the night before. "But that would start talk, and we don't need that right now; there's gonna be enough talk as it is, and god help you if any of it gets back to Eagle Bend in the next couple days. All we can do now is try to keep a handle on this thing and hope that Ezra's in such a good mood when he gets home that he won't want to spoil it by killin' you."

  
True to his word, Ezra rode back into Four Corners four days after he had left, sporting heavily loaded saddlebags and a smile that rivaled the sun for brightness. He pulled Orpheus up short in front of the jail and saluted Chris with a flourish. "How fared this town in my absence, Mr. Larabee?"

"I reckon we did okay," Chris drawled from his comfortable sprawl on the tipped-back chair. "Did you get what you went after?"

"Indeed I did," the gambler said happily. "And more besides. Now if you'll excuse me, Orpheus requires my attention. Am I on patrol tonight?"

"Only if you want to be."

Ezra winked. "Then I'll be seein' you in the saloon later, sir; put me down for tomorrow mornin's rounds instead."

"Can do, Ez." Chris grinned at the retreating form, watching him dismount in front of the livery stable and lead his tired horse inside. The grin disappeared as soon as the gambler was out of sight. _Shit, how are we ever gonna tell him? He's gonna kill Nathan outright once he sees Miss Julie_…

  
It had been a long three days. Nathan had remained stubbornly defiant for most of that first day, and then Mary Travis had stopped in to the store to talk to Gloria; Chris had seen her storming up the stairs to the clinic a little later and had smiled in a way that made several people cross the street to get away from him. He was waiting when she came back down almost an hour later, meeting her at the foot of the stairs to offer his arm and walk her back to the newspaper office. Chris ate dinner at Mary's house that night, and Nathan showed up at the saloon once the gunslinger returned and apologized to five of the six men he rode with. There were still some hard feelings, but the healer's shame and regret had been sincere and the bond between the men was still intact; Nathan had spent a lot of time since that night talking to Josiah.

Juliet, however, still wasn't talking to anyone – and according to Mrs. Potter she hadn't been eating, either. That much was obvious to anyone who saw her; the small woman had taken on a frail, fragile appearance and her wide eyes had shadows in and around them that refused to lift. She had become a ghostly echo of the person who had been there before, slowly fading away. And only Ezra would be able to bring her back.

  
They spent two hours trying to tell him. The normally reserved gambler was almost beside himself with nervous anticipation, barely able to sit still in his chair while he waited for Juliet to leave the hotel kitchen for the evening. Trying to distract himself, he told them all about his trip to Eagle Bend and the poker game in great detail and asked endless questions about the goings on in town during his absence, completely missing the uncomfortable silences and half-finished sentences that normally would have alerted him to a problem within minutes of sitting down. Chris finally signaled the rest of the men to stop trying and just hoped for the best.

  
Ezra checked his watch one last time, smiled and stood up, straightening his jacket and cuffs fussily. "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me…I believe I have an appointment to keep."

The sun was collapsing into a wondrous array of colors as he left the saloon and headed nervously across the darkening street toward the hotel. Right on time, the slender figure he was expecting stepped into the street as well, head down, tiredly hurrying toward the dry goods store. "Miss Moore," he called softly.

The dark head snapped up, indigo eyes wide. "Mr. Standish! You're back!"

"I believe I did say four days," he said, drawing closer. He bit back a gasp when he saw her more clearly and closed the distance between them in two frightened steps, catching hold of her arms to look down into her face. "Juliet! Whatevah has been going on in my absence? Have you been ill?"

Slender, trembling fingers closed almost convulsively on the velvet sleeves of his red jacket, but the young woman made a valiant attempt to maintain her composure. "It's nothing, Ezra, nothing." She managed a small but genuine smile and tried to keep her voice light. "I am so glad you're back! Was your trip enjoyable?"

"Not as enjoyable as coming home was," he said softly, disengaging one hand to brush a glittering drop of moisture from her pale cheek. "Are these for me? Did you miss me so much, my dear?"

She dropped her overflowing eyes guiltily. "I know I'm silly, Ezra," she whispered. "I'm sorry…but I did miss you. Four days was…"

"…an eternity," he finished for her, lifting her chin and gently forcing her to look at him. "And you're not silly, Juliet – whatevah could have given you that idea? Ah missed you, too." He blinked back the tears from his own eyes and smiled down at her. "And…ah brought you something, if you would care to have it. May I?" He had the satisfaction of seeing curiosity replace some of the sadness in her glorious eyes as she nodded. His smile widened, and the butterflies in his stomach began to stampede as he pulled the small box out of his pocket. "You must promise to tell me if this is not to your liking," he cautioned, receiving another nod in answer. With a sigh, he put the box in her hands and waited until she had opened it before dropping to one knee and removing his hat with a flourish worthy of a musketeer. "Juliet, would you do me the very great honor of becomin' my wife?"

Juliet's breath caught in her throat as she looked from the dainty gold ring in her hands into the hopeful emerald eyes of the man kneeling before her. "You're sure?" she whispered. "You want to marry… _me_?"

He took her hands in his, the disbelief in her shadowed eyes tearing at his heart. "I've never been more certain of anything in my entire misbegotten life," he assured her. He pulled the ring from its nest of silk and slid it onto her finger. "Will you, dearest? Will you marry me?"

The smile he loved to see was back in all its glory, along with the charming rosy blush. "Of course, Ezra. I would be honored to become your wife."

"The honor is mine, I assure you," he declared, pressing a gentle kiss to the hand bearing his ring. Regaining his feet, he enfolded her in his arms and lowered his face to within inches of hers. "Oh, Juliet, you have just made me the happiest man alive."

An explosion of cheers and applause from the doorway of the saloon startled them both before the kiss could become interesting; in fact, Juliet started so violently that Ezra became concerned all over again. Something had obviously happened in his absence…he abruptly realized that his friends had been trying to tell him something the entire time he'd been waiting in the saloon, something that was too disturbing to all of them for anyone to just come right out and say it. He kept one arm around the small woman's slender shoulders and gave an 'I'll be back later' wave to his friends with the other, noticing abruptly that one face had been conspicuously absent since his arrival in town. _Mrs. Potter will tell me_ , he thought, suspicion already growing inside of him. _Oh Lord, don't let it be what I think; the man cannot possibly have become that lost to reason_… To Juliet he said warmly, "Cherie, ah believe we should go inform Mrs. Potter of what has transpired; she and the children will doubtless be lookin' for you to be comin' home, and she'll have my hide if she sees us standin' around outside in the street like this. Shall we?"

She took his offered arm with another smile and a nod, but he could feel her trembling and had to resist the urge to just scoop her up in his arms and carry her. Instead he clasped his warm hand over her cold one and headed purposefully toward the dry goods store. _Oh please don't let it be what I think_…

  
When Ezra returned to the saloon almost an hour later, an uncomfortable silence fell over the room; no one in Four Corners had ever seen the normally easygoing gambler looking so dangerously angry. He stalked past his friends with a scant nod and advanced on the dark-skinned man sitting alone near the back of the room. Nathan stood when he saw him coming, but was still unprepared for the force that shoved him painfully against the wall and pinned him there. For the second time in four days, Nathan came to the unpleasant realization that he had vastly underestimated how dangerous one of his friends actually was. "Ezra, I…"

"Ah don't want to hear it!" the gambler growled, his accent thickened by rage. "Ah've let you play this little game for the past two years, Jackson, and ah've nevah said a word, NOT ONE WORD! Not because ah felt guilty for my upbringin' or the color of the uniform ah once wore and not because ah am ashamed of mah chosen vocation, but because ah understood your need to vent yourself at someone and you nevah turned that venomous tongue against anyone but _me_ – until _now_." His hand twisted in Nathan's collar and he shook the larger man roughly. "The woman ah love has been  pinin' herself sick for three days because you cannot let go of the GOD DAMNED WAR!"

He let go and stepped back so abruptly that Nathan fell to his knees, staring up in speechless shock at the enraged Southerner. "Ah accepted you, suh," Ezra hissed down at him. "In spite of the fact that it was 'upright Union men' of your race that murdered mah family, ah accepted you and rode beside you for two years. You have repaid my friendship with endless slurs on mah character that culminated in this current atrocity, and it will be some time before ah am able to hear your apology without needin' to resort to either violence or profanity. Until that time, howevah, ah shall endeavor to put my feelin's aside in the interest of our workin' relationship – and ah shall expect you to do the same."

And with that he spun on his heel and walked back to the table the other five lawmen were sitting at, dropped down in a chair and poured himself a drink. Making a visible – and surprisingly successful – effort to regain his composure, he forced a smile and raised his glass. "Gentlemen, I believe we are celebratin' my imminent return to marital bliss?"

Buck raised his glass, grinning widely. "To luckiest man on earth," he toasted.

"No," Josiah countered, a slow, proud smile crossing his face. "To the luckiest _woman_ on earth – to Juliet."

Six glasses clinked together. "To Juliet."

 


	5. Chapter 5

Ezra was up early the next morning to ride the dawn patrol, but apparently not so early as Juliet; his small fiancée met him at the livery stable with hot coffee and biscuits and sent him on his way with a kiss. Vin, who had been watching from his wagon, scrambled into his coat to escort her back to the hotel and then dropped in at the jail to share the story with Chris. "Don't know how he does it," Larabee chuckled, shaking his head. "The man hasn't even been engaged twelve hours and she's already spoilin' him rotten. Buck's gonna be jealous as hell…"

A soft knock at the jailhouse door interrupted him, and the two men traded a puzzled look with each other before the tracker went to answer it. Whoever was on the other side didn't say a word, but when Vin shut the door again he was holding a piled-high plate covered with a red and white checkered napkin and a small earthenware honey crock. "Yep, reckon ol' Buck is gonna be a mite jealous at that," he observed, winking at Chris. "But not just of Ezra."

The gunslinger slowly sat forward in his chair, the rich fragrance of fresh hot biscuits teasing his nose. "Now why do you think she…"

Vin had already fished a biscuit out from under the warming napkin and was slathering it with an obscene amount of honey. He grinned at his friend. "'Cause we're family, Cowboy, that's why."

"Family?" Chris thought about that one and then grinned himself, reaching for the plate. "Yeah, I guess you're right, we are – now why don't you lay off that honey, save some for someone else…"

  
Ezra disappeared from sight for a few hours after his patrol was finished, eventually emerging from his room above the saloon and making his way over to the hotel a little before noon. With a smile and a nod for Mrs. Abbott, he walked through the dining room and let himself into the kitchen, careful not to let the door slam behind him. And then, he just stood and watched his fiancée work, waiting for her to notice him.

After a few minutes she did, and her delicate face – still too pale for his liking – lit up with a happy glow that warmed his heart. "Ezra! Are you here for lunch?"

"Ah am," he said. "Ah was hopin' to spirit you away for just that purpose, as a mattah of fact."

"Oh!" Her face fell. "Oh Ezra, I wish I could, but I have to finish with the noon meal here and then there's this picnic basket…"

Ezra didn't seem too upset – on the contrary, he seemed to be suppressing a smile. "Picnic basket?"

She nodded, gesturing to a mostly packed basket sitting on the work table, which he promptly wandered over to investigate. "Mrs. Abbott said someone ordered it for today, some young man who wanted to take his young woman out for the afternoon. I tried to make it as nice as I could for them…"

"Ah can see that," he said, poking around in the basket and raising an appreciative eyebrow. "You must have been workin' on this sumptuous repast all mornin', darlin'."

Juliet blushed. "I wanted it to be special, she said they're gettin' married…"

Ezra had just opened his mouth to respond when Mrs. Abbott bustled in. "Julie, honey, do you have that basket…oh, I see you do. All right, then, what else needs to be done about lunch?"

"I have it almost ready." Juliet turned back to the stove and became suddenly very busy.

Mrs. Abbott turned to Ezra. "Why, Mr. Standish, is that a new jacket? What a lovely color!"

The gambler smoothed invisible wrinkles out of the indigo velvet fussily. "Ah thought so as well," he replied with a grin. "Ah picked this up in Eagle Bend this past week; it reminded me of…somethin' ah was missin' very much at the time."

"Well, it looks like a perfect match." The older woman winked at him. "Don't you think so, Julie?"

Juliet moved the large stewpot away from the hottest part of the stove and put a lid on it before looking back at them with puzzled indigo eyes. "Perfect match for what?"

Ezra stifled a chuckle, and Mrs. Abbott shook her head and rolled her eyes. She pulled the younger woman away from the stove and pushed her in Ezra's direction. "She's all yours, Mr. Standish," she told him, untying Juliet's apron with one deft tug. "How much longer on the cornbread, Julie?"

"About ten minutes…" Juliet looked from one person to the other, uncomprehending, as Ezra pulled off her apron and laid it carefully aside. "Mrs. Abbott?"

Jenny Abbott sighed and shook her head again; had her daughters ever been this naive? She couldn't remember. "Julie," she said gently. "Honey, I think the least I could do for a man so besotted as to match his wardrobe to the color of your eyes is to give you the afternoon off to spend with him. You go and have fun, all right? And don't forget your basket!"

"My…" The older woman suddenly found herself with an armful of Juliet – not enough of an armful, she reflected sadly, returning the grateful hug and giving Ezra a meaningful look over the trembling younger woman's head.

The gambler nodded once, his expression grave as he picked up the basket. _The problem's been taken care of, and now I'll set about repairin' the damage_, the set of his jaw told her, and she smiled; the story of the confrontation in the saloon the night before had already spread through the town like wildfire, and the fact that Nathan Jackson wasn't at that moment laid up in his own clinic was more than ample proof that Ezra Standish was a gentleman to the core. "Go on, Julie," she said softly. "It's a beautiful day, you shouldn't be wasting it."

"Thank you," Juliet whispered before pulling back and wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Should I be back to make…"

"Breakfast," Mrs. Abbott said firmly. "And I don't expect to see you two back in town before sunset, understand?"

"Yes ma'am," Ezra replied. "You have mah word on it, we won't come back until it becomes necessary for propriety's sake." He held out his free hand to Juliet. "Shall we, mah love? Orpheus awaits us outside."

Juliet's face lit up again as she took the offered hand. "We mustn't keep him waiting." She touched the soft velvet of his sleeve with a careful finger, raising her eyes to his. "Perfect match?"

Ezra nodded, lost for a moment in twin oceans of indigo blue that – as of last night – were entirely his. "Absolutely."

 

  
The late summer meadow was bright with wildflowers and colorful humming insects, the sun smiling down on the scene from a vibrant blue sky dotted with pristine white clouds. Ezra sighed and ran his fingers through the soft black tresses before him, combing out the tangles the gentle breeze had woven. Juliet leaned into his touch with a contented sigh of her own and he inhaled the fresh wild scent of the flower crown he had woven for her mingled with the honey-sweet scent that was Juliet's own. He was glad to see that the sun's golden rays had brought a touch of color back into her pale face. "This is a most perfect day," he commented languidly.

"A beautiful day," she sighed. "The kind of day you wish would never end."

He heard the hint of trepidation in her voice and, leaning forward, caught its shadow in her eyes as well. "Juliet? What is it, cherie? Tell me what's troublin' you."

"I…"

" _Darlin_ '." Ezra moved so that he was sitting in front of her, holding her in his arms. "Mah love, there cannot be anythin' so bad that you cannot confide in me."

"Ah know I have to tell you," she said softly, eyes fixed on the tightly-clasped hands in her lap. "Ah…ah can't keep such a secret from the man ah'm goin' to marry, but…" Her eyes lifted, imploring and heartbreakingly frightened. "Please, not today; ah want today to stay perfect and beautiful, Ezra."

He heard the unspoken thought as clearly as if it had been shouted aloud: … _so I'll have the memory if nothing else._ What secret could this gentle soul possibly be carrying that was so terrible she feared it would drive him away? If he found that this had anything to do with a certain healer's petty diatribes, he was going to skin the man like a coon and let the buzzards pick his bones. Ezra started to reassure her, and then decided to grant her wish – the day would remain perfect, beautiful, untainted. He liberated one of the nervous little hands and kissed it gently. "As you wish, ma  cherie; tomorrow will be time enough for secrets, and today I will simply bask in your lovely presence."

She colored prettily and thanked him with a sweet, warm kiss that he was loath to break away from – and might not have if they hadn't been interrupted yet again. "You there, gamblin' man! You get away from that girl, d'you hear?"

Juliet jumped and Ezra sighed; he leaned his forehead against hers and looked down into widened eyes. "Ms. Nettie Wells," he explained. "She hasn't been in town much of late, ah'm afraid – no inklin' of current events." Lifting his head, he looked up at the small, wizened woman approaching them with a smile. "Miz Wells, whatevah brings you out this way?"

"Divine providence, apparently," the older woman snapped, glaring at him and shaking the rifle that was clutched in her gnarled hand. "I said git away from her!"

"Ah'll do no such thing," Ezra objected smoothly, climbing to his feet and drawing Juliet up with him. "A man has every right to spend such a lovely summer afternoon in the company of the woman he intends to marry." His smile widened at her look of astonishment, his gold tooth flashing in the sunlight. "Ms. Wells, might ah present mah fiancée, Miss Moore?"

"Moore?" Nettie looked the young woman up and down. "So you're that little Miss Julie that works for Jenny Abbott, are you? I've heard about you but never seen you – guess Casey was right, you ain't big enough for a stiff wind not to blow you away." Then she chuckled. "Never would've thought you'd be the first one to settle down, gamblin' man – always thought that would be JD or Chris Larabee."

"A reasonable supposition," Ezra allowed. "Ah always thought that myself. Now tell us, Ms. Wells, what brings you out this way today? It wouldn't perchance be lost livestock, would it?"

Nettie's  eyes narrowed. "You ain't seen my calf, have you?"

Ezra made a show of pretending to think about it. "Hmm, let me see, have ah seen a diminutive bovine hearabouts…"

The performance produced the reaction he wanted; Juliet giggled, and then gave him a reproving little push with her arm. "Ezra!"

"Whaat?" He put on his best innocent look. "Ah was just tryin' to remember…"

"Tryin' to remember that I held your jacket while you caught that poor little calf and then helped you tie him up?" she smiled up at him. Shy eyes turned to Nettie with an apologetic smile. "I'll go get him, Ms. Wells; we staked him out in a nice patch of grass where he'd have some shade."

The older woman nodded and watched her scurry off, then frowned at the gambler. "Didn't remember Casey sayin' she was sickly," she commented quietly.

"She's not." Ezra's smile disappeared and his jaw set. "There was a…problem while ah was gone this past week, but it's been taken care of."

"Wouldn't expect less of ya," was the unsurprised reply. She cocked her head at him, considering. "Did ya kill him?"

"No." He glanced down at her. "But ah seriously doubt anyone would have stopped me had ah tried."

That made Nettie chuckle. "He know that?"

"Ah certainly hope so," the gambler said with a sigh. "Ah would hate to have to educate him by experience."

Juliet reappeared with the calf at that point and no more details were forthcoming; Nettie decided that a quick trip into town was in order as soon as she got the calf safely back in his pen. Taking her leave of the young couple, she hurried back toward home. _I need to lay in some supplies anyways_ , she reasoned. _Might as well catch up on things while I'm at it_ …

  
It was late afternoon when Ezra and Juliet rode slowly back into Four Corners, a comfortable silence between them. Ezra wore a flower in his buttonhole and more were woven into Juliet's thick braid; Orpheus proudly bore a garland around his arching neck. The sun's lowering golden rays seemed to caress the young couple with a lingering halo of ancient pagan magic, and more than one person on the street stopped to stare at them in openmouthed wonder.

Ezra wished the ride would never end, but when he spotted the two strange horses tied in front of the jailhouse he knew it had; duty called. "Juliet, my love, I believe I should stop at the jail to see what has transpired in our absence; do you mind?"

"Of course not; why should I mind?"

He smiled and gave her an affectionate squeeze. _Probably the only woman on earth who'd ask that and actually mean it_, he mused fondly. He was just reining Orpheus to a halt in front of the jail when the door opened and two men stepped out. Juliet stiffened, and he heard her sharply suck in her breath. "Cherie? What is it?"

The taller of the two men, a dark-haired man with a strong, stocky build, looked up at them and broke into a relieved smile. "Juliet, there you are!"

"Un-uncle Artemus?" She was shaking, and her slender fingers were digging into Ezra's arm through the sleeve of his blue jacket. "You g-got my letter?"

The man approached Orpheus’ side and looked up into the young woman's eyes gravely. "Finally," he said. "Juliet, I can't tell you how sorry I am; James and I were out of the country when you wrote of your difficulties, and it was barely more than a week ago that I received your letter. You don't know how relieved I was to find that you were not only well but apparently quite happy." He turned his gaze on Ezra and smiled. "Mr. Standish, isn't it? I'm Artemus Gordon, Juliet's uncle."

"A pleasure to meet you," the surprised gambler responded, tipping his hat. "Mr. Gordon, ah certainly did not intend to take advantage of your absence…"

"Oh not at all, not at all," Gordon reassured him quickly. "Juliet had no way of knowing if I were even alive, so I don't see how you could have anticipated my existence – and I've heard nothing but good reports of your character and intentions regarding my niece." He held out his hands to Juliet. "Come now, let's get you off of this horse so I can take a look at you."

Artemus  reflected to himself as he helped Juliet dismount that one didn't realize just how small five feet tall and eighty-seven pounds was until you had lifted it off the back of a horse. And it was even smaller when it was looking up at you with wide, wondering eyes from a good foot below your eye level. "Ah…ah thought you weren't…weren't _here_ ," she stammered.

"I came as soon as I found out what was going on," Artemus reassured her. The gambler, Standish, had dismounted right behind Juliet, and the secret service agent saw an expression of complete puzzlement cross the handsome face. He put his hands on the young woman's shoulders, looking down into her face in shocked amazement. "Good lord Juliet, didn't you tell them _anything_? Not even that you'd been kidnapped?"

"WHAT?!" Juliet started and backed up into Ezra, staring wide-eyed at Chris Larabee; the man in black had come up behind them just in time to hear the question. Chris mentally kicked himself for frightening her and reigned his anger in; several things he'd been wondering about suddenly made a lot more sense. "It was the Baxter sisters, wasn't it?"

"Ah couldn't p-prove it," Juliet whispered. "It would have been their word against mine." She took a deep breath. "And…ah got away." It was almost an apology.

"Thank god for that," Ezra said with feeling. Then a sudden thought hit him and he shot a horrified look at Chris. "Good lord, she must be what they came back for! And that ruffian last month…"

"Yeah, that would explain a lot." Chris cocked a suspicious eyebrow at Gordon, who was frowning. "You mind telling us just what it is they want with Miss Julie?"

"I honestly don't know," Artemus said, shaking his head. "Juliet?"

"Ah don't know either." The young woman had started to shake. "They came b-back for me? Why would they d-do that?"

The four men shared a look; Juliet had turned so white she looked like she was about to faint. Ezra tightened his grip on her just in case. "Ah believe this conversation might be better conducted someplace other than the street," he suggested firmly. "Mrs. Abbott's upstairs parlor should prove both private and comfortable. We'll go let her know we'll be needin' it."

He led Juliet off to the hotel, but Chris held the two newcomers back with a look. "Somethin' goin' on I should know about, _Agents_ Gordon and West?"

"We're not sure yet, Mr. Larabee." Neither man was shocked that the peacekeeper knew who they were; they had become rather more well-known than was necessarily healthy for secret service agents – hence all the time they'd been spending out of the country. "And I think we could ask you the same question."

"Yep." Chris scanned the street before bringing his gaze back to them. "You really her uncle, Gordon?"

Artemus  nodded slowly. "Until she says otherwise," he replied. "And as her uncle, I'd like you to tell me what's been going on with my niece – other than getting engaged to Mr. Standish."

The gunslinger stiffened a little. "Ezra's a good man."

"Yes, he is," West agreed quickly. "We checked all of you out before we got here; this is a complicated situation, we needed to know who we'd be dealing with." He looked at Chris for a moment and then apparently came to a decision. "Mr. Larabee, I believe an exchange of information is in order – but we'll need a secure place to talk. Think you can convince Sheriff Dunne to leave the jail for a while?"

Chris didn't quite smile. "I think that can be arranged," he said. "JD!"

The young sheriff came out of the jail, one hand on his gun. "Chris? What's goin' on?"

"I'll take over here for a while. Stick around town though, I might need you later."

"'Kay, Chris." JD left the door open and immediately headed in the direction of the saloon. He saw the questioning look West was giving him and grinned. "I may be the sheriff, but he's the boss. I'll either be at the saloon or over at the church, Chris."

"Yep." Larabee strode up onto the weathered porch and into the jail; the two secret service agents followed in his wake and shut the door behind them.

  
Half an hour later and more than a little concerned by what he had just learned, Artemus walked into the hotel and was almost immediately confronted by an older woman who looked him up and down consideringly. "You must be Julie's uncle." She seemed less than impressed.

The secret service agent produced his most charming smile and bowed. "Yes ma'am. Artemus Gordon, at your service. You must be Mrs. Abbott."

The woman nodded, but still didn't look inclined to trust him just yet. "Mr. Standish took Julie upstairs," she informed him. "You should have warned her you were coming, Mr. Gordon; that girl's had enough shocks since she got here, and this didn't help her any."

"I know." And he did know… _now_. Acting on inspiration,  Artemus stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. "Mrs. Abbott, I can't thank you enough for looking out for my niece. I owe you and Mrs. Potter a tremendous debt of gratitude for taking her in like you did after she escaped from her kidnappers…"

The older woman gasped, eyes widening. "Kidnapped!"

Gordon nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid so. She had escaped from their nefarious clutches and made her way here, not even knowing where she was, and she was too fearful of the miscreants' possible retribution to confide in anyone; she sent me a letter, but I was unfortunately out of the country and only returned a bare week ago. I was so relieved to find her safe, you can't even imagine…"

Mrs. Abbott shook her head and patted his arm. "I…have grown daughters of my own, Mr. Gordon, I can _well_ imagine. Oh, that poor child!" She dabbed at her eyes and gave him a little push in the direction of the stairs. "The parlor is the second door on the left, Mr. Gordon; if you need anything just send Mr. Standish down for it."

Artemus  caught her plump hand and kissed it. "Thank you, dear lady, I certainly shall." He headed for the stairs, pausing with one hand on the polished  bannister. "I hate to ask, but as some of what my niece and I have to discuss is family business of a most personal nature, could you…?"

"I won't allow anyone going upstairs to linger," she reassured him. He thanked her with a smile and continued on his way.

Nearing the second door on the left he paused for a moment, listening, and then opened the door and walked in, closing it firmly behind him and turning the key in the lock. Juliet was sitting on the couch, face buried in her hands; Ezra, perched beside her, was trying to offer comfort but was all too obviously in a state of shock himself. Gordon sighed. "You told him, didn't you?"

A wordless nod; the secret service agent sighed again and nodded himself. Dipping into his jacket's inner pocket, he extracted the small shiny card and carefully folded letter and held them out to the gambler. Ezra made no move to take them. "Are you her uncle?" he asked.

"Until she says otherwise," Gordon responded gravely, dropping card and letter into the gambler's lap. "And from what your young sheriff and more recently Mr. Larabee have told me, I believe the honor is mine for having been chosen to the position." He pulled up an upholstered chair and sat at Juliet's other side. "Teaching Indian children to read, maintaining the church garden, apprehendin' armed outlaws, cooking three meals a day here at the hotel – tell me, Juliet, is everyone where you're from so industrious?" Not receiving an answer, he gently pulled the slender hands down and tipped up her chin. "I have to say, my dear, I've come to the conclusion that the Baxter sisters did our world a great service when they brought you here."

She blushed, but the indigo eyes with their fringe of damp black lashes looked away. "I was just tryin' to keep busy."

"Well, you certainly made an admirable job of it," Gordon approved. "Mr. Standish is a lucky man…" She shuddered, and he suddenly saw the problem; he squeezed the cold little hands gently, deliberately pressing on the dainty golden ring. "And if this small matter of your origin causes him to forget that, I may be forced to discharge my familial duty to you by calling him out – not that I think he could forget, seein' as how every time he looks in his closet he's going to be reminded of how much he cares for you."

"Ah wouldn't forget anyway," Ezra said slowly. He handed the letter back to Gordon, frowning as he fingered the slick surface of the card. "This was your only proof, wasn't it, sent off to Mr. Gordon? And you were goin' to tell me anyway."

Juliet looked startled by the observation. "We were goin' to be married, I _had_ to!"

"No, you didn't," he corrected quietly. "But you _chose_ not to keep it from me, even  knowin' what the truth might cost you – you chose bein' honest with me ovah your own best interests." Ezra gave the small picture a thoughtful look. "You know, this photograph is very poorly done in spite of the novelty of color. And ah also notice from the information contained on it that you apparently have not lied even once about yourself, to anyone." He saw her open her mouth to protest and shook his head. "Not revealin' everything is not the same as lyin', cherie, and you may consider me an expert in that area due to the nature of mah profession – all three of them."

Gordon nodded his agreement, patting her hand reassuringly. "He's absolutely right, my dear; you've no caused to be ashamed in this situation." He let his words sink in for a moment and then asked the question they most needed an answer to. "So tell us, did you know the Baxter sisters from Denver? Were they acquaintances of yours, or perhaps enemies?"

"I didn't really know them, but I had seen them," she said with a sigh. "I was going to school, to college, and I had a job at a little bookstore downtown. I'd noticed those two girls in and out of the store; I tried not to think much about them, there are a lot of kids like that around and I," she shuddered, "I knew I had to g-get used to them eventually. I thought it was just my imagination…"

"They were watching you, weren't they?" Gordon sighed himself when she nodded. "They must have targeted you for a reason, Juliet; we just have to figure out what it was. Did they ever speak to you? Ask you any questions?" He saw her thinking about it and decided to narrow the field. " _Personal_ questions?"

"Ah can't think of anything out of the ordinary," she confessed. "Only where to find this book or that, or if we had books on certain subjects…"

"What subjects, darlin'?" Ezra prompted gently. "Do you remember?"

She nodded slowly. "I remember thinkin' it odd that they would be readin' such scholarly works, but I just assumed it must be for a research paper or some sort of odd hobby…they were all about Central and South America, about the Aztecs and the Incas and their civilizations – books written by archaeologists and historians, never fiction."

Artemus  looked thoughtful. "Hmm, ancient civilizations in South America and Mexico; James and I were just down there. We saw a ziggurat in the jungle, still mostly intact after who knows how many hundreds of years of abandonment. You could still see the stains on the al…" His eyes widened suddenly, and he exchanged a horrified look with Ezra. "Good God, you don't think…"

The gambler looked sickened. "She certainly fits the traditional criteria," he said tightly, stiffening a little with offense when Gordon raised a questioning eyebrow. "Ah certainly hope you are not about to ask the question ah think you are, Mistah Gordon."

"No," Gordon answered quickly. "One only has to look at her to know…well, to _know._ And what I know about you says you wouldn't have…"

"No, ah wouldn't." Dismissing the subject, he thought for a minute and then nodded to himself. "We need more information to make sense of all this, but ah'm afraid obtainin' it will necessitate bringin' someone else in on the secret. Juliet darlin', ah believe Josiah might just be able to help us sort this conundrum out, and with your permission ah'll go and get him."

She bit her lip. "But what if he doesn't…"

"He'll believe you," Ezra reassured her. "If necessary, my dear, ah'll _make_ him believe you – but it won't be necessary, you'll see. May ah go fetch him,  darlin'?"

Juliet laid a trembling hand against his chest, looking up into his eyes, and Ezra's heart almost stopped as the gesture reminded him of another time and place…and a much more permanent leave taking. "If you think it best, Ezra. You won't be long?"

Ezra caught up the small hand and pressed a fervent kiss to it. "Ah'll be back before you know ah've gone, cherie, you have mah word." _Promise me_ … He tried to ignore the ghostly whisper of memory, but couldn't stop himself from asking, "You'll…be here when ah return?"

The obvious feeling behind the nearly whispered question startled her, but Juliet recognized his need without understanding it. She lifted her hand – still clasped in his – to gently touch his cheek. "Of course, mah love. Where else would ah be?"

He laughed – at himself, and kissed the hand again. "Nowhere else, darlin' – ah was just bein' foolish. Ah'll be right back."

Gordon watched Juliet's face as the gambler hurried out of the room, seeing the little frown line that appeared between her eyes. "Do you know what that was about, Juliet?"

"Ah know he's a widower," she replied distractedly, still staring at the closed door. "Ah must have said or done somethin' that…" She shook herself. "Poor Ezra; whatevah happened, it must have been horrible for him. Ah shall have to be more careful until he feels ready to talk about it, so ah don't cause him pain unintentionally."

The secret service agent just barely stopped his mouth from dropping open. _She just found out she was probably kidnapped to be a virgin sacrifice in some barbaric ritual…and she's worried about reminding him of his dead wife. Ezra Standish, I truly hope you know what a treasure you've latched on to_. Recovering himself, he patted her hand and settled back in his chair, grinning at her. "While he's gone, my dear, how about you tell me all the wonderful things you've heard about my partner and I…"

  
Back at the jail, West was sitting in the visitor chair with his feet propped up on the scarred desk, sipping from a cup of coffee. "I have to say, Chris, you've taken all of this a lot better than I thought you would."

Larabee shrugged. "Not much else I can do with it, is there, Jim? I mean, it's not like me sayin' I don't believe you is gonna change the situation – what I'm worried about is how Ezra's gonna take it."

West cocked an eyebrow. "He as much in love as it looks like he is?"

Chris chuckled into his own coffee. "More." That made him think of something else, and he sobered quickly. "I sure hope you two weren't planning on takin' Miss Julie away from here."

"Nope." The secret service agent grinned. "We don't have any intention of taking her away from him – although if we'd told Washington what we were up to, they probably would have insisted.  Which of course is why we didn't tell them. We decided to see what was going on first, and after meeting Miss Moore I'm glad that we held off." He suddenly looked thoughtful. "As a matter of fact, I may even have another 'relation' for her."

It was Larabee's turn to cock an eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?"

"I know someone," came the measured reply. West was obviously weighing each word; the gunslinger didn't envy him his burden of secrecy. "His name is Jesse McLaughlin, and he and his…family have a ranch in Arizona Territory. If I send for him, he'll come."

"Why?"

"Same reason Miss Moore sent for my partner – he knows me from someplace else." He gave Chris a meaningful look. "I've never told Artie about this…but it sounds like the _same_ someplace else."

Chris frowned, thinking about it. "Just how many of these people are there livin' out here?"

West chuckled. "Just the six that we know of – Jesse, his wife and his foreman, and now Miss Moore and the Baxter sisters. I can tell you one thing, though." he became serious again. "Not a one of them seems willing to go back, and Jesse could have if he'd wanted to. I think we need to pay close attention to what these people say about the future if we don't want to recreate the mess they left behind."

"Bad?"

"You have no idea." He took a last swallow of coffee and set the cup aside. "Wars that make this last one look like a skirmish, crimes that make plain old murder sound tame and uninteresting – I mean, Jesse and Charlie've told me some, but Juliet is from almost twenty years after _their_ time, and I can only imagine the things that she's seen."

Chris shook his head, toying with his own cup. "Not sure I want to imagine," he replied slowly. "The Baxter sisters…neither of 'em could've been more than fourteen, Jim, and they were as feral as a couple of rabid coyotes. Ain't never seen nothing like 'em and I don't mind sayin' I hope I never do again."

West nodded. "You given any thought to how she got away from them?"

"I think they underestimated her," was the gunslinger's answer. He smiled slightly. "My guess would be they figured she'd be too frightened to run, didn't tie her up or keep a watch."

"That would be my guess, too – the bad thing is, next time they won't make that mistake."

Chris scowled. "There ain't gonna be a next time."

  
Josiah looked up from the shutter he was repairing when he heard the front door of the church open and smiled broadly when he saw the gambler. "Ezra! I thought you'd be out with…" Then he saw the look on the younger man's face; the big preacher was at his side in an instant, the shutter forgotten. "Son, what is it, what's happened? Is Miss Julie…"

"She's fine," Ezra reassured him. Worried emerald eyes nervously searched the concerned face looking down at him. "Josiah, ah…ah need you to do somethin' for me, somethin' very unusual." The older man nodded, and Ezra took a deep breath-part of which caught in his throat. "Ah need you to accept what ah'm about to tell you…unconditionally."

It was all Josiah could do not to flinch at the uncertain, pleading tone that colored the words. _Looks like I'm still reapin' what I've sown, a bitter harvest of doubt and distrust_, he groaned internally. ' _How much more the shepherd' indeed; no penance I could devise could equal the chastisement the Lord is deliverin' right now, hearin' my boy beggin' me to trust him like it's somethin' he has no right to expect_. He slid a fatherly arm around the gambler's shoulders and guided him to sit on a pew, settling down beside him. "Tell me."

Ezra took another deep breath, trying to retain his composure. "Juliet's uncle has just arrived in town, along with his partner – they are secret service agents, and apparently they've been out of the country for some time and only just returned. She had sent him a letter directly after arrivin' in Four Corners – directly after escapin' from her kidnappers, the Baxter sisters." Josiah gasped, and the gambler held up his hand to forestall any questions. "They had apparently targeted her in Denver at the bookstore where she was employed; they were searchin' for information on the Aztec and Incan civilizations. Mr. Gordon – her uncle-and I could only theorize that it must have been Juliet's…virtuous demeanor that attracted the two little hellions to her in the first place."

The preacher nodded slowly. "Those cultures practiced human sacrifice, yes," he said. "And the purer the victim, the greater the likelihood of the ritual being effective…but what could they possibly be tryin' to do that would require a virginal blood sacrifice? That kind of ritual could only be for something…" His concerned gaze went back to Ezra, who looked as miserable as Josiah had ever seen him. "There's more, isn't there."

"There's more." With a sigh, the gambler reached into his coat pocket and fished out the shiny card. "Juliet _did_ most recently come from Denver," he said heavily, placing the card in Josiah's hands. "Just not… _our_ Denver."

Josiah turned the card over in his hands and squinted at the picture, then read the words beside it…and then he read them again. "Oh my lord," he said softly. "She's from…the future?"

"No, an alternate world," Ezra corrected absently, fingering his wedding ring, trying not to feel the touch of that small, caring hand in the center of his chest or hear the ghostly whisper in his ears. He forced a chuckle. "She nevah once lied, Josiah – left out a few details here and there, but she nevah once lied. And she was plannin' to share her secret with me tomorrow, not bein' able in good conscience to keep it from me in spite of the fact she had no proof a'tall. Her point of origin notwithstandin', mah Juliet has got to be a woman in a million."

"Yep." Josiah looked at the card again and sighed. "But we knew that before."

"That ah did," the younger man replied softly. "The Baxter sisters are still out there, Josiah. They want her back."

"They can't have her." The preacher dropped a large hand on Ezra's slumped shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "She belongs to us now. Now tell me what else is botherin' you." Ezra dropped his head into his hands, but Josiah wasn't having it; he used his other hand to gently force the gambler's head back up so he could look into his eyes and then shook his head over what he saw there. "Been wonderin' when this would happen. What reminded you, son?"

"A small…gesture she made. The way she looked up at me…" He twitched away from Josiah's grip, his emerald eyes suspiciously shiny. "It was the last time ah saw Christina..."

Josiah frowned and brushed an errant lock of chestnut hair off the younger man's forehead. "Somehow I don't think the good lord would bring that little woman all the way from another world to be your wife if he didn't intend to let you keep her," he said gravely. He saw Ezra's eyes widen at his easy acceptance of the situation and shrugged, giving him a little shake. "Don't matter where she's from, son, only that she's here now – and that she loves you with all her heart." He chuckled. "Nice coat, by the way; looks like a perfect match."

That got a smile, albeit a small watery one. "It is. She was all ah could think about, Josiah, the whole time ah was gone. And then when ah found out what had happened…"

"She was pining away," the preacher said quietly. "Wasn't nothin' we could do but keep Nathan away from her and wait for you to come home. If you hadn't come back, Ezra…"

"Ah know – but there should nevah have been any question of mah comin' back! Ah made certain she knew exactly how long mah absence would be before ah left." The gambler's expression became grim. "What exactly did the bastard say to her, Josiah?"

Josiah sighed. "He was trying to have a 'talk' with Mrs. Potter and didn't realize Miss Julie was close enough to hear," he began. "From what I gather, most of what he had to say was just his opinion of you…but I know he called her a 'silly little girl'."

Ezra winced. "She called herself that last night," he said. "Ah'd wondered where it came from-she was so happy to see me she cried, Josiah, and yet she seemed to think it was somethin' she should be apologizin' for. And she seemed astonished that ah'd ask her to marry me…"

"No, that _anyone_ would ask," the preacher corrected sadly. "I was teasing her about  gettin' married one day over at the church, and she told me that it was something she never would have to worry about – said that a man wants a woman, not a little girl."

" _What_?!"

"She was repeatin' what someone else had told her, I could tell," Josiah told him. "Just like the day after she shot that outlaw when she said the world wouldn't stop for her." He shook his head. "I think I know when someone said that to her – it must have been after her priest Father Thomas got killed, got his head blown off right in front of her unless I miss my guess. Miss Julie's world must be a harsh, cold place, Ezra."

" _This_ is her world now," the gambler insisted. He gripped the older man's arm. "Will you come help me try to make sense out of this mess, Josiah? Please?"

The hint of uncertainty – of fear, even – was still there, and it was more than Josiah could stand; he settled his callused hands on the soft indigo velvet of the new coat and looked down into widening emerald eyes. "I turned away from you the last time you asked for my help, son," he said slowly, his eyes burning at the memory. "But you have my word that it's a mistake I'll _never_ make again. Understand?" Ezra's mouth opened and then closed with a snap; he swallowed hard and nodded, unable to speak. "Good; see that you remember," Josiah rumbled, giving the younger man a little shake for emphasis before releasing his hold. "Now let's go sort this situation out, and I want to meet this 'uncle' of Miss Julie's…"

  
The next few days were busy and surprising. Mrs. Abbott had refused to let Juliet work a full day while her uncle was in town, so she spent each afternoon and evening telling her fiancé, Josiah, Chris and the two secret service agents everything she could about the world she'd come from. West had been right about Juliet having seen things that were far beyond the stories told to him by his friend Jesse; he quickly discovered that his not-inconsiderable imagination hadn't stretched nearly far enough – her unquestioning acceptance of presidential scandal and corruption alone shocked him to the core. Gordon was disturbed by much of what he was hearing as well, but was just as equally thrilled by the scientific advances that the young woman told him about and made endless notes in hopes of duplicating some of them.

After two days of skirting around the subject, the five men finally decided to start asking more personal questions in hopes of finding out something that might give them a lead on the Baxter sisters…and got more than they bargained for. Josiah had guessed correctly about Father Thomas; the priest had been gunned down in cold blood during a hostage situation at the public school where he often volunteered as a tutor – and Juliet had been one of the hostages. Her halting account of ten hours spent watching one friend after another being violated and then killed more than explained why she had fled her home and family in St. Gabriel for the sprawling anonymity of Denver. Chris excused himself soon after that and retired to his table in the saloon to sit and stare at a glass of whiskey that he couldn't seem to remember to drink until Ezra joined him an hour later and kept reminding him until the bottle was gone. Josiah came in not long after that and the gambler shared another bottle with the two of them before heading up to his room at an hour much earlier than usual for him, having decided that if he wanted to snatch a few minutes alone with his fiancée it would have to be accomplished by meeting up with her on her way to work early the next morning. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, imagining how surprised she would be to see him waiting for her when she took her usual shortcut through the alley…

  
Ezra woke up slowly, wondering when his feather bed had gotten so hard. He could hear yelling and pounding footsteps; something must be happening in the saloon, he decided, and wondered sleepily if he should get up to investigate. His room was cold too, he must have left the window open by mistake…

The touch of a hand on his shoulder startled his eyes open, and he shut them again with a groan of protest, rolling over onto his back. _Hangover_ , he decided. "Please, tell me ah'm not late for patrol," he muttered. "Just give me a minute…"

"Ezra!?"

Hmm, that was Buck – also apparently the owner of the hand that was now cupped against the side of his face; Ezra opened his eyes again, squinting against the throbbing pain in his head. "Buck? What…" He trailed off as a sliver of hot blue sky showing above the top of a wooden wall caught his attention. _Wait a minute, I'm_ … Ezra sat bolt upright in alarm and was rewarded by a lightning-bolt of pain lancing through his skull, making him groan again and drop his head into his hands. "Oh god _damn_ that hurts!"

Buck's hand had moved to his shoulder, steadying him. "You just take it easy, Ez, Nathan's comin'…"

The gambler's jaw clenched, and Buck felt the muscles under his hand tense. "It doesn't hurt that bad," he grated out, using the larger man to pull himself to his feet…and finding himself face to face with Chris. Ezra sighed, raising one hand to gingerly rub the knot on the back of his skull. "Ah've had worse."

"Yep," Larabee agreed quietly, giving him an odd look. "What do you remember, Ez?"

Ezra cocked an eyebrow – and winced. "Whoevah it was hit me from behind," he said slowly, frowning when the memory was slow in coming. "He was big…" He shrugged out from under Buck's grasp and stepped past Chris, eyes searching for something. "And there was another one, about Buck's size, and he was…he was…"

A gasp was the only warning they got, but luckily JD and Josiah were there to catch the gambler when his knees buckled. Ezra never even noticed them; his attention was riveted on a spot of disturbed ground four feet away…and on the dusty indigo-blue ribbon that had been trampled into it. His mouth opened but no sound came out.

Vin was looking at the ground too, a grim yet appreciative expression on his face. "She must've put up one hell of a fight," he said softly, shaking his head. "Looks of these tracks though, one of these guys was near as big as Josiah so I don't think it did her much good – but she tried, just the same." He lifted serious blue eyes to the worried gambler. "Ain't no blood here, Ez."

"Ah can see that, Vin," Ezra said slowly, his still slightly dazed green eyes going from the dusty alley at his feet to the road leading out of town. "Ah think they need her alive, or they would have killed her here."

Chris scowled. "The Baxter sisters."

"Ah would assume them to be behind this, yes," Ezra replied. "Considerin' their…uh, proclivities, ah don't think it would be any problem for the two of them to garner assistance from the local outlaw population. And we knew that someone had been watchin' the town."

"But why take Miss Julie?" JD wanted to know. "You think they want ransom?"

"No; they know that Mr. Gordon isn't her real uncle," the gambler answered distractedly. He shot Gordon a look, thinking of all the possibilities they'd discussed over the past three days. "Perhaps they need her to get home?"

The secret service agent nodded slowly. "Or to keep from going home," he mused unhappily. "We still don't know for certain how they got here, any of them; and much as the scientist in me hates to admit it, Juliet's story and the…mentality of the Baxter sisters could lead a person to believe that the Dark Arts were involved. If that is the case then they need her to seal the gate, one of the reasons we theorized she might have been brought here in the first place; I certainly can't think of any other motive they may have had aside from sheer malicious mischief."

Josiah was nodding and Chris looked troubled; Buck looked at Vin, JD and Nathan and saw his own confusion mirrored in their faces. "All right, you boys have left the rest of us behind," he said irritably. "Mind cluein' everyone else in?"

"I don't think we have a choice," Gordon said, biting his lip as he looked at Ezra. "They'll have to know what's going on, even if they don't believe it."

"Ah agree," the gambler told him. He sighed, looking around at his friends. "All right, you probably will have a hard time acceptin' this story, but hear me out. Juliet is not from this world…and neither are the Baxter sisters." He ignored the resulting exclamations of shock and disbelief. "They kidnapped her and brought her to our reality for reasons unknown; she escaped their clutches shortly after their arrival and made her way here to Four Corners. She had no idea where – or when – she was, and she was terrified to take anyone into her confidence lest they think she was insane. But she'd remembered hearin' of Agents Gordon and West in her own world, and she knew that if they were here, they would stop the Baxter sisters from doin' whatever mischief it was they had come here to accomplish."

"She sent me a letter, months ago," Gordon continued. "James and I were out of the country, however, and it was only a bare week ago that I received it. It was obvious to us that she didn't expect to return to wherever it was she came from, because she requested that I name myself as her uncle if I came here so as not to start gossip in the town – as she put it, 'because I live here now and must have a care for my reputation'." He sighed. "Her world is more than a hundred years in advance of ours, and from what she's told us of it it's no wonder a delicate creature like herself would prefer our reality over her own; apparently the Baxter sisters are no oddity there, but rather a single example of an overwhelming problem in their society."

"Juliet has encountered their kind before, and she is terrified of them," Ezra said quietly. "But she was even more afraid of what damage they could do to _us_ , to our relatively innocent world. She had given up on hearin' from Mr. Gordon and was preparin' to take me into her confidence despite the possible consequences – that, and she said she could not in good conscience keep any secrets from the man she…" His voice broke, and he ran a shaking hand through his hair and swallowed hard before almost whispering, "From the man she was goin' to marry." Vin dropped a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and the gambler shook his head. "Ah'm all right."

"Like hell you are," Buck contradicted, pushing aside his shock. He grasped the smaller man's slumped shoulders with his large hands and shook him slightly. "I don't care if she's from another world or from the next town over, Ez; Miss Julie is your woman and we _will_ get her back for you, understand? Nobody messes with a member of this family and gets away with it. Right, boys?"

"Right," JD chimed in without hesitation. "Them Baxter sisters are gonna rue the day."

"Amen to that," Josiah rumbled, moving closer to slip a strong arm around Ezra's shoulders. "Don't you worry, son, our little sister is going to be fine. See?" His other hand described a sweeping gesture. "No crows, not a one."

Ezra managed a small smile, briefly leaning into the comfort the older man offered. "No crows," he agreed.

"An' if I see any, I'll shoot 'em," Vin said decisively. "Or hell, we could just have Chris turn that famous glare of his on 'em, stare 'em right down out of the sky."

That got a general laugh from everyone except the gunslinger, who was doing his best to glare at Vin and not smile, and the scowling healer, who was shaking his head. "This ain't no jokin' matter," Nathan said with some irritation. "That girl's brought more that her share of trouble to this town…"

Lead-weighted silence descended on the group as green eyes snapped up, blazing with fury. "Ah warned you once," Ezra said in a quietly deadly voice. "Ah would have thought our last such 'discussion' had made more of an impression on you."

The taller man started but held his ground. "Ain't the same thing, Ez, an' you know it. She's bin lyin' since she got here, an' now you expect us to…"

"Juliet has not lied, not even once," the gambler interrupted sharply. "She simply told only the parts of her story which were believable – _and_ she proved her more spectacular claims more than adequately once Agents Gordon and West arrived."

"Before that, even," Gordon corrected. "She mailed me the only piece of concrete evidence she had in the envelope along with her letter; I tested it rather thoroughly in my lab and had to conclude that it was authentic – surprising, but authentic." He reached into his jacket's inner pocket and pulled out the small shiny-faced card, handing it to Buck. "Look for yourselves; her date of birth is under the picture."

The tall cowboy took the card gingerly and looked it over, then whistled and passed it on to Vin, who handed it to JD; Nathan received it last. The healer examined it carefully on both sides, his eyebrows rising when he read the back. "What the… _organ_ donor?! What kind of foolishness is this?"

Gordon plucked the card out of his hands and glanced at it before tucking it back into his pocket. "Imagine a world where medical science is so advanced," he said quietly. "That diseased or damaged organs can be replaced with healthy ones taken from accident victims – with prior permission, of course. Juliet tells me that every adult who receives a motorized vehicle license is offered this option, and many thousands of lives are saved each year by such posthumous 'donations'."

"Motorized vehicle?" JD asked.

"Horseless carriages, propelled by internal combustion engines – apparently the main method of transportation in her world."

Vin made a face. "Explains why she didn't know how to ride. But why would anyone from the future want to come back here an' make trouble. It don't make sense!"

"Yeah it does," Chris replied. "Law would've advanced along with everything else; they're lookin' for easy pickings."

"To the criminal mind, a situation such as this would look most invitin'," Ezra agreed, giving Nathan a final warning glare before looking at the other men. "And as two such minds are now in possession of that which I hold most dear, perhaps it is time we showed them the error of such thinkin'."

"Get the horses; we're ridin' out," Chris ordered. "They're already at least two, three hours ahead of us." He snagged Nathan's arm and held him back as the others hurried to the livery. "No, not you; you're stayin' here."

The healer froze. "What do you mean, I'm stayin' here? Y'all might need me…"

Larabee gave him an irritated look. "You honestly think Ezra would let you anywhere near Miss Julie, Nathan? Hell, I'm not sure any of us would now." He stalked off after the others, calling over his shoulder at the shocked man, "I warned you too, Nate, and you're damn lucky – or didn't you see Josiah holdin' Ezra's gun in his holster after you called Miss Julie a liar?"

  
Nathan stood in the alley for a long time after the man in the black duster disappeared, thinking; he only returned to his clinic after he heard the horses thunder out of town. Looking around the small, hot room, remembering all the times he had fought there to save the life of one of his friends, he had to wonder how the chasm between them had grown so wide…

Sinking down on the edge of the bed, dropping his head into hands that had all too often been stained with the lifeblood of the men he rode with, Nathan honestly didn't know if it was a gap they would be able to bridge…or if any of them were going to want to.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 contains adult language and situations, please read with discretion if such content disturbs you.

Eight men rode out of Four Corners united in purpose to save one woman; Vin led the pack, following the trail with skill and speed that frankly amazed the two secret service agents riding behind himself and Larabee. Josiah and Ezra came next, the older man watching the younger carefully, and Buck and JD brought up the rear, their attention also focused on the Southerner. Ezra was oblivious to the scrutiny, lost in his own private hell.

Almost forty-five minutes into the chase, Vin pulled up sharply and almost threw himself off Peso's back. Chris motioned the other six riders to stay mounted. "Vin?"

"Another struggle," the tracker said worriedly. "Looks like she slipped off the back of the horse, tried to run away – in her stockin' feet, no less, they must've took her shoes." He was following the track away from the main trail as he spoke; some twenty yards away he froze, dropping to one knee. "Chris!"

Larabee hurried to his side. "What?"

Vin held up a handful of brown rags, using his body to keep the other men from seeing his find. "Looks like they done found a better way to keep her from runnin'," he said in a tight, hard voice, his blue eyes cold as they read the sign in front of him. "She was fightin' like a damn wildcat, took two of 'em to hold her while the third…" He threw the remains of Juliet's brown dress back down in the dirt with a snarl and stood up. "God damned animals."

"I don't see any blood." Larabee's voice was a hiss, his eyes dark with fury. "Did they…"

"Not that I can see," Vin answered quickly. "Ain't no sign…and there would be, them were some pretty big guys." His own voice was bleak. "Looks like they was just tryin' to keep her from runnin' again; I'd say this time it'll work." He nudged the rags with his boot. "I don't think Ez needs to see this, Chris."

"Nope, he don't," Chris agreed through clenched teeth. He spun around and stalked back to his horse, swinging up into the saddle without looking at anyone; Vin did the same. "Let's ride; we need to catch up to these bastards quick."

The rawness of his voice brought Ezra's head up with a snap; suspicious green eyes went from the gunslinger to the tracker and then the gambler was off Orpheus’ back and racing to the spot the two had just investigated before anyone could stop him. He stood for a moment, staring down at the ground, and then dropped to his knees in the dirt with one hand covering his mouth. Vin cursed softly and made to go after him, but Chris stopped him with a tight shake of his head. No one else moved. They saw the gambler gather up something from the dusty ground before staggering back to his feet; he took one last, hard look at the ground and then strode back to the waiting men. Clutching the rags against his chest, his expressionless face as white as alabaster, he shot one meaningful look at the tracker; Vin shook his head and Ezra nodded once, then re-mounted his horse and waited, staring straight ahead. Without another word, they took up the trail again.

  
The sun was just beginning its graceful dip toward the horizon when they caught up with their quarry. Concealing their horses far enough away so as not to be heard, the eight men got as close as they could to the dusty depression where the kidnappers had stopped and took in the situation from behind a rocky ridge. There were, just as they'd thought, five outlaws – and two of them were the Baxter sisters. And then there was Juliet…

Buck and Josiah, luckily, had been ready; Ezra was flat on his back on the ground with his arms pinned up and away from his guns and the preacher's big hand clamped over his mouth before he'd done much more than think about leaping over the ridge with a gun in each hand and a Rebel yell on his lips. Chris leaned over the restrained Southerner and forced his eyes up with a firm hand on his forehead; those emerald eyes held a cold, hard glitter that the gunslinger recognized from his own mirror in years past, and he knew he was getting a glimpse of the monster Ezra's first wife had so feared. "Ezra," he said quietly but firmly. "Listen to me, that ain't the way; you go runnin' down there and you're gonna get her killed and most likely yourself too, you understand me?"

After a moment of tense hesitation, the cold glitter faded and reason returned to the emerald eyes; the gambler relaxed and nodded slightly. Buck and Josiah released him and he sat upright, rubbing his wrists. "Thank you, gentlemen," he said, not really looking at anybody. "It won't happen again."

"Wouldn't blame ya if it did," Buck told him. "An' we'll be ready if it does." Ezra nodded again, clapping the taller man on the arm as they turned back to the ridge.

Even dressed in marginally more appropriate boys' clothing, the two Baxter sisters still managed to look violently out of place – it wasn't apparent how, but they did. They appeared to be conferring about something only they could see, and several times they checked the position of the sun from different vantage points around the area of their camp. Finally, a conclusion seemed to be reached; Catie Baxter raised her voice, the shrill sound of it carrying clearly in the still air. "All right, we need to get ready; it could happen anytime after the next ten minutes, and we can't afford to miss the window. Hayes, get her up off the ground – and I want the little bitch up on her toes this time so she can't kick."

Juliet was huddled at the foot of a nearly leafless drought-ravaged tree, curled in on herself with her long black hair draped around her like a ragged veil, flashes of white skin showing between the tangled strands. Her hands were bound with her wrists together and the end of the rough, dirty rope trailed carelessly away across the dusty ground. The largest outlaw ambled over and gathered up the rope, tossing it over a convenient branch. "Up ya go, girl," he said, giving the free end of the rope a sharp yank that pulled Juliet's bound arms up over her head. Eight men gasped…and then sighed with relief; there wasn't enough of what she was still wearing to be proper underclothing, but the pale pink cloth it was made of did manage to cover the necessities – just barely. The outlaw gave another tug at the rope and ordered, "Come on, on yer feet. Don't be makin' me do all the work…"

He wasn't prepared for her to yank back; the rope came out of his hands and Juliet spilled backwards in a tangle, trying to pull the length of the rope down off the branch. The outlaw caught it before she could and looped it around his thick wrist before giving a vicious tug that jerked her off the ground and toward him. "Ya wanna play rough, huh?" he leered, grabbing a handful of black hair and forcing her face close to his. "I had time, I'd show you rough, little girl – and I promise ya'd like it."

Juliet spit on him. The sound of the resulting slap echoed like a gunshot against the rocks, and behind the ridge Buck and Josiah decided just to keep Ezra on the ground for a while.

Catie  stepped in before Hayes could draw back his hand to hit the small woman a second time. "Enough," she said, sounding bored. "Just get the damn rope tied off, Hayes, and keep your fantasies about doing little girls to yourself – I swear, you guys are more fucking trouble than you're worth." The grumbling outlaw gave the rope another yank and Juliet squeaked as her feet all but left the ground. "Now that sounds more like it!" Catie laughed. "Who ever would've thought a frigid little nothing like you would have given us so much trouble, hmm? If we didn't need your precious little cherry intact to make this work, I might just be tempted to give you to Hayes and his buddy over there just to listen to you squeal when they pop it – but I doubt even they'll want you after watching me cut your heart out."

Juliet pulled against the ropes again, but couldn't get enough leverage to accomplish anything more than further tearing the skin on her wrists. "Ezra will come for me," she said. "He won't let you…"

"That gambler won't be doin' anything," Rissa interrupted, wandering over to stand next to Catie. "We know all about him, we watched the damn show back home before we came here; even if he did want your virgin little ass bad enough to track us down, ain't none of those other gunslingers he works with gonna stir one step for a two-bit lyin' thief like him 'less they need him for somethin' – an' he's too gutless to come by himself."

"Yeah, even his own mother disrespects him," Catie snickered. "Always looked to me like she was damned embarrassed to have a son too soft an' stupid to follow in her footsteps."

Juliet's face flushed and she drew herself up as much as her position allowed, absolutely radiating contempt. "You obviously don't know as much as you think," she spat back at them. "Maybe you shouldn't believe everything you see on television; my Ezra is a good man, brave and smart, and the men he rides with are like his family. You may kill me, but they will hunt you down like the animals you are!"

The two girls and the listening outlaws responded with raucous laughter. "Well, you got one thing right at lease; we _are_ goin' to kill you!" Rissa chortled. She pulled a knife out of her belt and held it up for Juliet to see before running it lightly down one paling cheek to tap against the center of her chest, smirking when the small woman flinched away from the cold metal. "Aw, Catie, I think she's afraid to get cut!"

Catie  smiled, plucking the knife out of Rissa's hand and testing the edge of the blade with an unpleasant smile. "Probably never been cut before," she said thoughtfully. "I've heard the anticipation is the worst…" Without warning, the blade flicked out and its point drew a thin red line across the white skin; Juliet shrieked, jerking violently against the rope, and Catie patted her cheek and crooned, "There ya go, no more anticipation – now you can't say I never did nothin' for you, huh?"

Back of the ridge, Vin was sighting down the barrel of his rifle. "Whatever it is they're waitin' for, Cowboy, I ain't too sure they're gonna wait much longer."

"Nope." Chris pulled back from his position and gestured to West; the secret service agent nodded and he and Gordon began making their way around the north side of the rocks. Another gesture, and Buck and JD began the same procedure on the south side. He then turned his attention to his other two men. "Josiah?"

The preacher had let the gambler up when they'd heard Juliet shriek, but was still maintaining a tight hold on his arm just in case; both men were staring down over the ridge. "Something's happening, Chris; see that shimmer? I think whatever gate they used to get here might be about to open again."

Larabee squinted down into the camp and saw what Josiah was talking about, a slight wavering in the air reminiscent of heat rising off the desert floor on a summer day. He shook his head, dismissing it. "Ezra, you with us?"

The gambler's Remington appeared in his hand with startling speed. "Ah'm ready," he growled.

Chris shared a look with Josiah over Ezra's head and then turned back to Vin. "Ready?" At the sharpshooter's nod he drew his own gun, took one more good look at the scene below and then jumped out of concealment and fired into the air. "All right, everyone freeze!"

For one startled instant, everyone did; then, with a scream of pure rage, Catie spun back around with the knife raised high just as Vin's rifle roared from the rocks beside Chris. The rope looped over the branch split as the bullet hit it and Juliet tumbled back to the ground, out of her reach. Bullets began to fly in all directions as the lawmen traded gunfire with the outlaws and both Baxter sisters dove for cover, cursing.

The shimmer intensified and a line of light like a crack in a china plate slowly began to form. Rissa clutched the knife that Catie had shoved back into her hand and peered cautiously around the listing tree trunk before darting back out to try to complete the sacrifice before it was too late. Juliet had curled into a defensive ball on the hard ground, arms protectively over her head; Rissa grabbed the rope around her wrists and yanked the small woman over onto her back, pinning her bound arms above her head and lifting the knife. "I am not going back!" she screamed at the struggling woman. "We brought you here to seal the gate and that's what you're going to…!" JD's bullet took her right below the collarbone, effectively stopping the knife's downward plunge as the force of the shot threw the girl backwards…into the widening crack.

The ground shuddered and there was a roar like that of a tornado. Ezra was already racing across the body-littered ground, only hesitating when he reached the sprawled body of Hayes, the large outlaw he vaguely remembered from the alley. He knew without a doubt that he had also been the one that had...it was all the normally controlled gambler could do not to spit on the man's corpse as he jumped over it. Juliet was already trying to scramble up and away from the now roaring crack, the hard wind that appeared to be blowing _into_ it tugging at her dark hair. Ezra pulled her to her feet and tight against his chest, trying to put himself between her and whatever was happening, feeling the tug intensify even as he braced himself against it. The roar grew almost deafening, and he was peripherally aware of the other men drawing in close, ready to help if necessary.

Suddenly, there was silence; the wind died with a hiss. A rip opened in the fabric of reality, not a neat portal but a jagged, gaping tear, and that tear looked out on a vast, dirty city that sprawled in all directions under a brown-tinged sky. Massive buildings clustered together at its center, hundreds if not thousands of windows reflecting the orange light of the setting sun and the ragged teeth of the Rocky Mountains. Long gray roads covered with impossibly small and speeding vehicles covered almost every inch of ground not occupied by buildings, occasionally even rising up into the air to twist back around on themselves in great sweeping knots. Something small and metal and most improbably airborne flew insect-like over one of the most congested roads for a short way, circled twice around the largest knot, and then hovered for a moment over a cluster of flashing red and blue lights before darting off towards the far side of the city.

Juliet had taken one look at the open rift and then buried her face against Ezra's silk-embroidered waistcoat; the gambler tightened his arms around her shaking body and stared at the world she'd come to him from. "Denver?" he asked softly. A nod against his chest. "Good lord, what a terrible place."

"Amen to that, son," Josiah breathed. "No wonder they didn't want to go back. Look at that sky – what is that in the air?"

"Pollution, I believe," Artemus said disbelievingly. "But I've never seen it so thick – not even in New York."

"Don't see how anyone could live there," Vin muttered, scowling. "It's unnatural, that's what it is."

"I'll say," West agreed thoughtfully. "Easy to see how the Baxter sisters could happen in a place like that, though."

The edges of the rift trembled…and then slammed inward with a hard hollow pop that shook the ground again and had everyone fumbling for their balance. The four nearest sets of hands reached out to steady Ezra and Juliet, then suddenly realized they were touching bare skin and drew back abruptly; Chris got his coat off first and draped it around the small woman's shoulders. "Okay, let's comb the area, make sure we got 'em all," he ordered, turning to face the other men – and neatly blocking their view. "But don't anyone stray to far away followin' tracks, there could be more of 'em than what we saw already."

The men scattered, leaving Ezra to help Juliet shrug into Chris's duster in relative privacy. Vin and Buck found the outlaws' horses some distance away among the rocks and were beginning to string them together to lead back to their own camp when Vin, scanning the ground for sign, suddenly came upon a set of footprints that made his eyes narrow; tracks of small, bare feet, marked with dark sticky liquid. The tracker's sharp intake of breath brought Buck to his side; one look and the ladies' man swore and hurried back to the clearing, sweeping a very surprised Juliet off her feet with no warning whatsoever. "The difference between stubborn and stupid," he told her, using the same exasperated tone he usually reserved for JD, "is that red spot on the ground where you were just standin'."

Ezra looked at the ground and paled, then circled around Buck to gingerly lift one of his fiancée’s dangling bare feet; Josiah joined him, and both men just stared for a moment before glaring at Juliet…who cringed. "It can't be that bad," she ventured timidly. "It doesn't really hurt that much."

"No, not yet it doesn't," Josiah observed grimly. He walked back around Buck and reached for the small hand that was gripping the front of the cowboy's shirt, stopping abruptly when Juliet flinched away from him in spite of herself. "Oh, Little Sister," he said softly, the anger fading from his face. "We ain't angry at you, honey; we're angry none of us remembered you might be hurt." He ran a careful finger along the purpling bruise swelling on her pale cheek and then drew back the overlong sleeve of the black duster to reveal the raw, rope-torn skin on her wrist. Shaking his head, the preacher reached out and very gently pulled the small woman into his own arms. "You'd best go tell Chris, Buck – we won't be ridin' out of here tonight, not now."

Juliet frowned up at him. "I feel fine, I could ride…"

"You won't be sayin' that an hour from now, darlin'," Ezra contradicted quietly, already dreading what was to come. "And ah dare say the horses could use a rest; we rode them hard through the day's heat, gettin' here." He saw the look on her face and shook his head. "If you are even considerin' apologizin' for any part of this situation, Juliet…"

"But ah should have…"

"Done what?! What more could you possibly have done, Juliet, against five armed outlaws?!" She cringed again, and Ezra mentally kicked himself. He took her face in his hands and looked directly into her eyes. "Now you listen to me," he said in a softer, but equally intense voice. "You fought them every inch of the way, we could see it – and you were still fightin' when we got here! Darlin' no one, no _where_ could possibly ask more of you."

"And anyone that says different will answer to us," Josiah rumbled. "Ezra, you run on ahead to the horses, get what we'll need out of the saddlebags; I'll get Miss Julie settled and get a fire started, we need to take care of this quick as possible before infection settles in."

  
Gordon and West reappeared from their scouting while Josiah and Ezra were still rooting around for supplies, and between the four of them they soon had a comfortable camp set up and everything they might need close to hand. They had forbidden Juliet to move from the spot they'd placed her in, and so she sat there watching the preparations with growing apprehension, shifting around uncomfortably but not making a sound.

Finally, when they couldn't delay any longer, Ezra came back to the shaded spot beside a rounded outcropping of rock where he'd arranged his bedroll and sat down beside his fiancée. "They hurt now, don't they?" he asked quietly. His answer was another shift and a tight little nod; she obviously didn't trust her voice. Ezra sighed and reached into his jacket, pulling out his silver flask and uncapping it. "This is not the most effective analgesic, but it should help," he explained, handing her the flask. Juliet took it and sniffed cautiously, then made a face, wrinkling up her nose, before handing it back to him and shaking her head. Ezra sighed again. _Ah should have guessed_ , he thought ruefully, recapping the flask and setting it aside. _What ah would not give for a bottle of laudanum right now_ …

Josiah was thinking the same thing, fingering the small silver forceps that West had had in his kit as he looked at the swollen, lacerated skin on the soles of Juliet's feet, seeing the cactus spines and jagged splinters that had become deeply embedded in the tender flesh and knowing that if they couldn't be extracted intact he was going to have to cut them out. Oddly enough, that thought made him even more glad that Larabee had forced the healer to stay behind; his hands might not be as sure or as steady as Nathan's, but the preacher was certain in his own mind that the shaken, frightened young woman trying so hard to be brave and strong should not be touched for a while by anyone who didn't truly care for her. He took a deep breath and carefully picked up one dainty foot, feeling the heat of a burgeoning infection already radiating off of it. "Are you ready, Little Sister?"

Juliet swallowed hard and nodded, her hands gripping into the blanket she was sitting on, her indigo eyes dilated to black pools by the fear and pain she was trying not to give in to. Ezra moved himself behind her, and Josiah had to smile as he watched the gambler's hands insinuate themselves over the top of Juliet's and grip reassuringly. "We're ready," he said.

Gordon brought hot water from the fire and the two of them washed the packed dirt from the cuts and began pulling out the splinters; it was a laborious process, and by the time they had done all they could do everyone but Vin had come back from scouting the area and the lengthening shadows were beginning to merge into larger pools of coming night. Chris and JD lit every lantern they had with them to make more light for Josiah and Buck was grimly, unhappily honing his pocketknife to razor sharpness; five of the slender, needle-sharp spines were going to have to come out the hard way.

Ezra took out his flask again and handed it to Gordon before pulling his fiancée’s tense, trembling form into his lap, holding her tightly while the secret service agent forced her to take a mouthful of bourbon. The burning liquid made her cough and choke, but they both felt some of the tension leave her muscles and her tight-shut indigo eyes fluttered open to blink at the gambler in shock. "Bettah?" he asked softly.

She dropped her head onto his shoulder, closing her eyes again. "B-burns."

"Ah know." He began to stroke her hair soothingly while he watched his friends make the necessary preparations, suppressing a shudder of his own when Buck tested the newly-sharpened knife on a piece of leather before handing it to Josiah.

Gordon saw the shudder and patted the younger man's shoulder before returning to his place at the preacher's side. He wrapped a strong hand around Juliet's ankle and used the other to hold the already twitching foot still. "Juliet, we'll be as quick as we can, all right?" No answer, but Ezra nodded and pulled her in a little closer to his chest. Josiah closed his mind to everything but the task at hand and brought the blade down against the swollen skin that marked the hiding place of the first embedded spine.

Juliet never made a sound; her face stayed buried in Ezra's shoulder, her hands clenched in the fabric of his jacket. Ezra kept his arms tight around her, murmuring soft reassurances against her hair, his expression strained. When Josiah reached for the bottle of whiskey he stiffened and wrapped his hand over the top of hers, squeezing reassuringly. "Almost over," he whispered. "It's almost over, darlin', ah promise." No response; Josiah imagined it was taking everything she had to remain silent and still. He took a deep breath and tipped the bottle so that the amber liquid flowed across the already festering raw wounds.

The high-pitched keening moan that was torn from Juliet's throat brought the men sitting around the fire halfway to their feet and drained all the color from Ezra's face; the young woman shuddered once and went limp, and the gambler dropped his face into the soft tangles of her hair with what sounded suspiciously like a sob. Josiah swallowed hard and doggedly kept working, cleaning the wounds as thoroughly as he was able and then wrapping the small feet in soft bandages before pulling a pair socks scavenged from Ezra's saddlebags over all for added protection. Then he moved on to clean and wrap the raw, torn wrists, thanking god that none of the tears were deep enough to need stitching. "I think they'll heal without scars," he said, laying the limp little hand in Juliet's lap, smiling when Ezra immediately picked it back up. "She'll be fine, son. Walkin' won't be to pleasant for a few days…"

"Then ah'll make certain she does not do it." Ezra used his free hand to brush hair away from Juliet's pale, tear-streaked face, his fingers skirting the bruise on her cheek. "Ah think there's been enough unpleasantness for Juliet lately, don't you?"

"Yep," Josiah agreed with a sigh. "Think there's been more than enough, but it's all over now…"

"We hope," the gambler contradicted unhappily. "Ah noticed that Catie Baxter is not among the dead; ah certainly hope that does not mean..."

"She got away," Vin confirmed grimly, striding into the camp. "Must've slipped by when that rip opened up an' we was all distracted, got one of the horses and rode hell-bent for leather." He squatted down beside Ezra and pushed back his hat, running one hand through his sweat-damp hair. "I'm sorry, Ez, it's already gettin' too dark to track her." His gaze drifted to Juliet, pale and still in the gambler's arms. "She gonna be okay?"

"Should be," Josiah answered for him. "Just took a good bit out of her, gettin' those feet cleaned up."

"What about that other cut?" Both men just looked at him, and Vin shook his head. "Oh that's right, you two were…um, doin' somethin' else when that Catie cut her. It's right…" He reached for the neck of the black duster and then thought better of it, pulling his hand back. "Uh, Ez, maybe you better check this one."

Ezra fumbled with the buttons and pushed aside the heavy fabric…and grimaced. Fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket, he handed it to Josiah. "Soak that with whiskey, please," he requested. "It isn't too deep, but it's more than a scratch and it needs to be tended to."

The preacher frowned. "You want me to take a look, son?"

"No, that won't be necessary." Taking back the handkerchief, Ezra pressed it carefully over the shallow slice, feeling the fluttering heartbeat under his fingertips. "Right over her heart," he murmured, more to himself than to the others. He touched his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, letting the faint rhythm reassure him as he fought back the tears of relief that wanted to fall. "Right over her heart."

  
They rode out the next morning just after dawn, leading two riderless horses and three more carrying a burden of blanket-wrapped dead outlaw and keeping a sharp watch on the surrounding countryside. Juliet rode sidesaddle in front of Ezra and drifted in and out of sleep for most of the journey home, looking small, pale and fragile in the oversized black duster; Josiah and Gordon took turns dropping back to check on her periodically, waking her enough each time to drink water from their canteens to stave off the light fever that was worrying Ezra more than he wanted to admit. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when they finally rode into Four Corners early that afternoon.

Ezra reigned Orpheus in right in front of the dry goods store and then kicked himself off the horse's back with Juliet still held firmly in his arms, a procedure which startled a surprised squeal from the young woman. The squeal brought Mrs. Potter out of the store in an instant. "Julie! Mr. Standish, is she…"

"Ah'm fine, Mrs. Potter; Ezra, put me down." Juliet tried to wriggle out of his arms and Ezra tightened his hold. "Ezra!"

He looked down at her indignant expression, his mouth set in a stubborn line. "Those feet are not touchin' the ground," he told her firmly. "Not until day after tomorrow at least and definitely not without proper footgear." He stepped up onto the boardwalk and approached the store with obvious purpose. "Mrs. Potter, we need to draw a hot bath and fetch Juliet's nightgown – ah believe Mr. Larabee will be wantin' his coat back…"

"A night…Ezra! Ah am _fine_ , ah do not need to go to…"

Ezra tightened his grip again against another determined wriggle. "Ah realize that you think you're fine," he interrupted. "But you will kindly allow the rest of us to reassure ourselves on that point, as we have spent varying parts of the past twenty-four hours worryin' that you might be dead or worse – and you yourself have been injured and are runnin' a temperature." She opened her mouth to argue and he stopped the words by capturing her lips with a passionate kiss, not pulling back until he felt the last of her resistance melt away in his arms. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "You are goin' to bed."

Indigo eyes looked dazedly up into determined emerald ones, then fluttered closed as Juliet dropped her head against his shoulder with a dreamily contented sigh. "J'sus parti au lit."

  
Nathan approached the other men in the saloon shortly after their return, not entirely sure of his welcome. Chris raised an eyebrow at him. "Anything happen while we were gone?"

"Nope, it was quiet." The healer pulled out a chair and sat down. "You find out what was goin' on when you caught up with them outlaws?"

"Shore did," Vin answered.

Nathan waited, but no further explanation was forthcoming. "I only seen three bodies, what happened to the Baxter sisters?"

Buck took a drink and slapped JD on the shoulder. "The kid here shot Rissa, kept her from killin' Miss Julie, but Catie got away – if she's smart, she won't stop ridin' till she's in Mexico."

Chris scowled at that. "I ain't sure she's smart."

"I'm not sure either," West agreed slowly, sharing a troubled look with his partner. "The gate is closed now, I think, but it wouldn't surprise me if she came back for revenge."

"Heaven help her, then," Josiah rumbled, remembering the wounded-animal sound Juliet had made the night before when the raw whiskey poured over the cuts on her feet – some of them cuts he'd had to make. The expressions on the other men's faces told him he wasn't the only one who remembered. "All I can say is, I don't know how long I can remember I'm a lawman if we ever catch her around these parts again."

"What about rememberin' you're a man of God?" Buck teased. "'Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord' and all that?"

The big preacher placidly sipped his whiskey. "He also said, 'an eye for an eye', Brother – and I ain't never known the Lord to demand penance for killin' snakes."

"Amen to that, Preacher," Vin agreed. "Lord might frown on skinnin' 'em alive, though – we'd best hope Ez don't never find her."

Nathan held back his snort, not thinking it would go over very well. "So that Baxter girl took her sister's body? Or did you all bury it?"

The men looked at each other. "It fell through the gate," Chris said quietly. "Don't know what happened to it after that – don't rightly care, either."

"And we're not going to discuss it in the middle of a busy saloon," Artemus told the healer firmly. "All that anyone needs to know is that we killed all but one of the outlaws and Juliet is safe and…well, she's safe."

Nathan jumped on the slip. "She got hurt?"

Chris grimaced and shot Gordon an irritated look; he pointedly did _not_ look at Nathan. "She'll be fine – be back on her feet in a couple of days.  Nothin' to worry about."

"Back on her…the girl can't walk and you say it's nothin' to worry about!" The healer was already halfway out of his seat. "Why the hell didn't you all override that damn stubborn Southerner and bring her to the clinic?"

Josiah's large hand pushed him back down into his chair. "She's a woman, not a girl, and there wasn't nothin' to override; Miss Julie's been taken care of and she's gonna be just fine. Ezra and Mrs. Potter'll let us know if they need anything."

Nathan's jaw set, remembering the last time Josiah had told him that, the last time that large hand had held him back. "Was it Ezra took care of her this time, too?" he spat.

Buck's glass came down on the scarred tabletop just a little harder than it needed to. "Would it matter if it was, Nate?"

"He ain't no doctor!"

"Neither are you." Larabee's icy growl effectively froze four men who were about to go off like gunpowder under a match – a match named Nathan Jackson. "Forget again, Jackson?"

The healer flinched. "Ain't no call to be bringin' that up," he said in a low voice. "I made a mistake that time with Miss Maude an' her hotel, an' I done apologized for it; ain't no call to be rubbin' my nose in it…"

"Why not? You do it to Ez," Vin commented, tossing back the rest of his whiskey. He stood up. "Reckon I better get on over to the jail, take a look at them wanted posters to see if those guys we brought in was on any of 'em."

"I'll go with ya, Vin," JD said, draining his glass as well. "It'll go quicker if both of us work at it, there's an awful lot of posters to go through." The tracker grinned and clapped the young sheriff on the shoulder, and the two men left together.

"I think you're forgettin' somethin' else, Nathan," Josiah rumbled once they were gone. "Only real city boy in this outfit is JD – and even he's comin' right along. Ain't a man here that hasn't done his bit of doctorin' beside the trail a time or two, and we're all still alive to tell the tale." His faded blue eyes lifted. "And it was me that took care of our little sister's injuries, with some help from everyone else. Still got a problem with it?"

Nathan looked away from his friend's level gaze. "Course I don't," he sighed. "It's just got to be a habit, I guess, bein' the one to handle things when someone gets hurt."

"Ain't a bad habit," Chris observed judiciously, refilling his glass and then settling back in his chair. "You're a damn fine healer, Nathan – you just aren't what Miss Julie needs right now."

Nathan relaxed a little; maybe that chasm would eventually get bridged after all. "She's okay?"

"Told you she was already," Josiah said. He smiled slightly. "I am wonderin' how long Ezra can keep her off those feet, though – our little sister doesn't like being idle."

  
Ezra had known that…but at the moment he had other concerns. He had watched the store for Mrs. Potter while she helped Juliet to get cleaned up, abandoning his post behind the counter as soon as his fiancée was dressed in her nightgown so he could carry her up to her room. She had balked at being carried at first, but after her first attempt to put her bare feet on the floor and stand Ezra was able to scoop her up without a single protest – she was in far too much pain to complain. Climbing the stairs and entering Juliet's bedroom, he carefully lowered her onto her bed and took a good look at her, not liking what he saw; her renewed pallor had served to highlight the faint blush of fever that spotted her cheeks, and the pain-narrowed indigo eyes looking up at him were just a trifle glassy. A glance at Mrs. Potter showed that she had seen it too. "What should we do first, Mr. Standish?" the older woman asked, her slight emphasis on the pronoun letting him know that she had no intention of calling for the town's resident healer.

Ezra smiled at her. "If I might have Cedric and Cecily fetch and carry for me, I had thought to ask you if you would mind lettin' Josiah know we'll be needin' some of that horrid black tea Mr. Jackson makes as well as a modicum of carbolic acid. I believe the children and I can have everything else we'll require assembled by the time you return."

Gloria smiled back at him, knowing he was sending her instead of one of the children so he could be sure that Nathan wouldn't insist on coming with the needed supplies. "I don't mind at all, Mr. Standish; I'll send the children up on my way out."

She quickly headed out of the small room and down the stairs, and Ezra turned back to Juliet – who was pushing herself upright against the bed's headboard. Ezra quickly adjusted the pillow behind her, frowning. "You're just goin' to be layin' down again…"

"Only if ah have to." The pain was starting to fade again, and she sighed with relief as she settled back against the soft pillow. "Ezra, ah'm fine," she insisted softly. "My feet hurt, but they'll get bettah."

His frown didn't go away. "You're runnin' a fever, darlin'; you're not as fine as you think."

Juliet gave him an odd look and put a hand up to her forehead. Then she shook her head and laughed. "Ezra, ah've gone to school sicker than this – to work, too. This little bit of fever isn't enough even to worry about."

The gambler's mouth dropped open. "Little bit of…Juliet, how can you _say_ that?! That 'little bit of fever' means infection has set in somewhere…" His voice trailed off; she was looking at him like she had no idea why he was so upset…and he suddenly realized that she didn't. The words on the back of her 'drivers license' came back to him – _organ donor_ – and the reality of the vast difference between their two worlds hit Ezra like a bolt of lightning, settling in  in a way it hadn't when she was just telling them about it. To someone who takes replacement of a damaged heart or reattachment of a severed limb for granted, what would fever and infection mean? It would mean you take a pill and get on with your day…

…Because the world won't stop for you. Probably, it won't even slow down.

But this wasn't that world. Ezra stroked a tendril of damp hair away from her flushed cheek, wondering how to make her understand. His epiphany came when Ceddy and Cissy came bouncing up the stairs and poked their heads into the room, and he waved them in the rest of the way with a serious expression. "Children, ah need your help."

"Mama said we were supposed to help you," Cissy said solemnly.

"Fetchin' and carryin'," Cedric confirmed.

"Yes, ah will need your help with that," Ezra agreed. "But first, ah need a second medical opinion – and ah believe the two of you are old enough to give it to me." He had to smile at the way the twins puffed up with pride at his words. "Now, why don't you come over here and tell me if you think Juliet is sick or not – just don't touch her feet, you don't want to hurt her."

He received two outraged looks for the suggestion and then the children went to work. First they looked at the soles of Juliet's feet, careful not to touch but each holding a hand close before conferring in whispers about it. Then the two of them went to the head of the bed to look at the bruise on her cheek; Cissy touched it gently and then leaned forward to kiss it. "Mama always gives me a kiss when I get hurt," she told Juliet seriously. "She says love makes it better."

Juliet pulled the little girl into a tight hug. "Mama's right, Cissy," she whispered. "It feels better already, thank you."

"Cissy!" Cedric had just discovered the rope burns and torn skin on Juliet's wrists. He tugged his sister out of the young woman's embrace and they captured one hand at a time to assess the damage, frowning unhappily. "Does it hurt?" the little boy wanted to know.

Juliet shook her head. "Not very much, Ceddy."

He cocked his head at her. "That means yes, right?"

"Yes, it does," Ezra said helpfully. Juliet made a face at him, and he hid a grin. "So, do you have an opinion for me? Is she sick?"

The twins looked at each other. Cissy moved close to Juliet again and looked hard into her eyes, then reached out a small hand to touch her forehead. She nodded at her brother, who traded places with her and did the same thing. He gave Juliet a very careful hug when he was done. "Aw, Miss Julie, don't worry; we'll take really good care of you until you're all better."

"I'll bring you flowers every day," Cissy vowed with equal seriousness. "Mr. Ezra, you and Mama can make her better, can't you?"

"Yes," Ezra assured her. "We'll make her all bettah – and ah know you'll both help us. Now, why don't you go fetch somethin' soft we can use for bandages and the ointment your mother uses on your scrapes; Cedric, I need you to get some hot water and some clean rags, all right?" The two children hurried off immediately, leaving him alone with his puzzled fiancée. "Darlin'?"

She cocked her head at him, plainly confused. "Ah don't understand why you're all so worried, Ezra; it's just a little fever…"

"Ah know." He put one hand on her slender shoulder and brushed the other across her forehead and down her cheek, smiling when she leaned into the caress. "Ah know that where you're from an infection is apparently nothin' to get excited about, but here it can be the death of a person if not carefully attended to – and ah intend to attend to it _very_ carefully,  cherie, very carefully indeed. Do you understand now?" Wide-eyed, she nodded, and Ezra leaned in to steal a kiss before pulling back again and snagging Juliet's hairbrush off the small table by her bed. "Good. Now sit forward and let me indulge mahself tendin' to those beautiful tresses of yours until the children get back, and then we'll see to those rope burns…"

  
The four peacekeepers and two secret service agents were still sitting around the table in the saloon when someone from outside came in to tell Josiah that Mrs. Potter wanted to speak with him; the preacher quickly got up and went out to her, returning moments later but not resuming his seat. "Told ya they'd let us know if they needed anything," he said. "Nathan, could you…"

The healer was already on his feet. "I'll just go get my bag…"

"Whoa, Brother," Josiah rumbled. "Gettin' ahead of yourself, there; they wanted some carbolic and some of your 'horrid black tea', as Ezra calls it. Didn't say nothin' about needin' an extra set of hands." Nathan just stared at him, and Josiah decided to put it plainly. "You're not comin' with me, Nate."

"That tea is the strongest medicine I've got for fever and pain," was the slow response. The healer's brown eyes didn't look away from Josiah's this time. "Infection ain't nothin' to mess with, Josiah."

"Never said it was." The preacher didn't break eye contact either. "Now do you want to come measure out that tea for me, make sure we get the dose just right?"

Nathan took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest. "You ain't gettin' it unless I get to come up there to see what's goin' on. I'll let ya have the carbolic, but not the tea." A small, smug smile crept across his face. "'Course, you don't _have_ to have that tea; ya'll can just listen to her scream while you do whatever it is your  doin'."

It took Nathan only seconds to realize that the 'suggestion' had been a mistake – as had the smile that accompanied it. As one, the men at the table rose to their feet and silence fell over the saloon. It was Buck who spoke first. "And you wonder why we won't let you anywhere near Miss Julie," he said disgustedly. "Can't believe I was startin' to think maybe we should let you take a look at her later." He shook his head and stalked away. "I'll be at the jail."

"Hold up, Buck; I'll go with you." West's eyes were grave. "Artie, you familiar with this 'horrid black tea'?"

Gordon nodded slowly. "Not by that name, but I believe I'd be familiar with the ingredients – enough to determine the proper dosage for a woman Juliet's size. If you could take me to it, Josiah, I'll help you get what's needed." He gave Nathan a dark look when he saw the healer start to object. "Mr. Jackson, I am certain your callous 'threat' was simply a poorly conceived ploy to get you in to see my niece…but you are an absolute fool if you think we would even chance such a slip happening in her presence when she is doubtless still traumatized by recent events."

Nathan muttered something under his breath and Gordon, who had been turning away, spun back around with the speed of a striking snake. "Repeat that so everyone can hear it, Mr. Jackson," he ordered.

West had come back to his partner's side and had his hand on his gun; he hadn't heard Artemus use that tone of voice since the last time he'd impersonated an officer – he had a feeling it was the voice he'd used in the war to command his men, but Artemus Gordon didn't talk about the war, not even with him. "Artie?"

Gordon didn't move. " _Now_ , Mr. Jackson."

Nathan had involuntarily straightened almost to attention – as had half the other men in the saloon. "I just said that some folks ain't cut out to live out here," he said. "Ain't nothin' against Miss Julie, but you gotta be tough to make it in the West."

Gordon stared at him for a moment and then threw back his head with a bark of laughter; West joined him, and after a moment so did the other three lawmen. "Oh, Nate, that was a good one," Buck chortled. "I think you're funnier than JD sometimes!"

The healer-and most of the saloon's other patrons-were staring at them in complete confusion, so Josiah reigned in his bitter amusement and lifted a large hand for quiet. "All right, maybe we'd best straighten this out right here and now so it don't come up again. Nathan, do you know what happened after Miss Julie was kidnapped?" The healer shook his head reluctantly. "That's right, you didn't, so I guess we'd better tell you-tell everyone, I guess, let them know just what kind of woman it is Brother Ezra is taking to wife. Because all of us sure found out yesterday."

Once he saw he had the entire saloon's attention, the preacher cleared his throat and began his story. "Miss Julie was abducted from Four Corners early yesterday morning, in case anyone didn't already know that. The sign found in the alley where it happened showed that the two outlaws who did it were about the size of myself and Brother Buck and that she put up quite a fight before they managed to subdue her. We rode out after them several hours later and found more sign about an hour out of town where she'd apparently jumped off the back of the horse they had her on and tried to escape – in her stocking feet, since they'd taken her shoes to prevent her from running. They ran her down, of course, and then two of them held her while a third removed the rest of her clothing with his knife to keep her from running again."

You could have heard a pin drop in the saloon. "Madre de Dios," Inez whispered, crossing herself. "They didn't…"

"No," Gordon said quickly. "They didn't; they wanted her for a sacrifice, so they couldn't..."

"They needed a virgin sacrifice," Josiah clarified. "When we finally caught up with them, they had her tied up and were getting ready to cut her heart out." Even some of the hardened trailhands drinking at the bar gasped at that one.

"She spit in the face of the man that pulled her up off the ground and then tried to get away again," Buck said admiringly. "Didn't even yell when he hit her. And then she told off those Baxter sisters after they made her mad by talkin' bad about Ez; she told 'em that even if they killed her all of us would hunt 'em down 'like the animals they were'."

"No need, seein' as how all but one of 'em's dead," Chris grunted. "And after last night, I don't lay odds to that one survivin' long if she shows up around here."

"It was Catie Baxter that got away when we rescued Miss Julie," Josiah explained. "Slipped away in the confusion, used her sister as a decoy and got her killed in the process. We didn't realize Miss Julie was hurt until Brother Vin found bloody footprints by the horses, and that's when we found out that the soles of her feet were near cut to ribbons and full of cactus needles to boot. Took her uncle and I quite a while to clean it all up, and then we had to cut out five of the spines that were buried too deep." He shot a dark look at Nathan. "She never made a sound, either – not until I poured whiskey in those cuts to try to stop the infection."

The healer flinched in spite of himself. "I didn't know."

"Nope, you didn't," Buck agreed quietly. "So you should've kept your mouth shut until you did."

Gordon stared at Nathan a moment longer without saying anything and then turned back to Josiah. "We need to go get that tea."

Josiah nodded, and the two men left without another word; no one else moved. Finally Nathan sat back down with a sigh and reached for the bottle sitting on the table. The other three men shared a smile before Buck and West headed for the doors and Chris resumed his seat, and after a few moments of nothing happening the rest of the saloon's patrons turned their attention elsewhere. Chris let the silence drag on for a few moments before breaking it. "Well?"

"Well what?" the healer replied sullenly, staring into his whiskey. The bridge he'd had hopes for had just crumbled again – no, he realized, he'd knocked it down himself. He wondered if Chris was going to tell him to leave town, tell him that they couldn't afford this kind of dissent in their little band of peacekeepers. "What is it you expect me to say? That I'm sorry?"

"Nope." The gunslinger's turquoise eyes studied him thoughtfully. "Ez was right about that the other night; it's too early for an apology. There'll be plenty of time for that later."

Nathan started to take another drink…and froze. _Don't ever run out on me again_ , he heard, whispering out of the past. He lifted stunned eyes to his leader and was surprised to see a small smile soften the hard features before the man in black rose silently to his feet and left the saloon without a backward glance.

  
Josiah and Artemus found everything they needed fairly quickly in the well-organized clinic. "Nathan ain't a bad man," Josiah rumbled quietly, watching Gordon's experienced hands measure out the herbs that comprised Nathan's bitter fever tea. "And he _is_ a damn fine healer."

"I know." The secret service agent didn't look up from what he was doing. "He was a stretcher-bearer in my regiment – boy had the healing touch." He grimaced. "He also had a damn loud mouth, even then; I'm personally surprised it hasn't gotten him killed yet."

To say that Josiah was shocked was an understatement. "You think he remembers you?"

Gordon snorted. "Apparently not, or we would have heard about it already – not all of those lash marks on his back came from an overseer, you know."

"Regimental discipline? On an escaped slave?"

"He didn't give me much choice." Artemus carefully rolled up the tea in a paper and looked around the clinic. "He's done well for himself and I'm glad, but it looks like my original assessment of him was correct; Nathan Jackson is one of those people who has to learn the hard way that being opinionated doesn't make him right."

The preacher nodded slowly. "That is our stubborn brother's cross to bear, unfortunately; he tends to see things in black and white with no gray in between." He cocked an eyebrow at Gordon. "You know, in Miss Julie's world the way he treats certain folks would be called discrimination."

Artemus  chuckled. "Mr. Standish could sue him for it there, too – we'd best not suggest it to him, he might try to get the law passed here just for fun."

Josiah slapped him on the shoulder. "Trust me, Artemus; when that boy of mine turns his attention back to the law he might enjoy it…but he won't be doin' it for fun."

They carefully re-locked the clinic and took their supplies over to the dry-goods store. Mrs. Potter led them into the kitchen and helped Gordon fix a heavily honeyed cup of tea which she then took upstairs. Ezra came down a moment later and dropped into a seat at the kitchen table next to Josiah. "I'm surprised he let you have it; I expected him to insist on coming along with the noxious concoction just on general principles."

"You expected right," Josiah confirmed. "But it didn't do him any good; we left him in the saloon with Chris. How's she doin', son?"

The gambler smiled tiredly. "Still insistin' she's fine, but the children and I did manage to convince her of the need to treat infection seriously." His smile disappeared. "Ah think we may have missed somethin' last night, gentlemen; the lacerations look clean, but there's too much swellin' present for my peace of mind. Perhaps we'd best go back upstairs and see to it." He stood up…too quickly, and the room spun sickeningly around him. He felt Josiah's strong hands push him back down into the hard chair. "Ah'm fine…just stood up too fast."

"Yep," the big preacher agreed-but his hand stayed on Ezra's shoulder. "You also got knocked out yesterday, took a long hard ride in the heat, had a couple of nasty shocks, got involved in a shootout and then followed it all up with a mostly sleepless night and another hard ride – and Miss Julie ain't the only one who hasn't eaten in two days, is she?"

Tired green eyes looked up at him. "To be honest, ah can't remembah."

"I'd be surprised if you could," Gordon commiserated. He placed a steaming cup of tea on the table in front of the Southerner. "That might clear out some of the cobwebs, though."

Ezra picked up the cup and sipped, making a face at the amount of sugar in it but not voicing a complaint. "Much appreciated, Mr. Gordon."

The secret service agent shrugged. "I do this for Jim all the time, he can be very…singleminded." He watched the younger man drink, then casually walked around the table and stopped just beside him…just in time to catch him when he slumped sideways. "Where should we put him, Josiah?"

The preacher closed his mouth, which had fallen open. "Mrs. Potter's sitting room would do, there's a couch in there." He knelt across from Gordon and carefully gathered the limp gambler into his arms. "You do this to your partner all the time, huh?"

Artemus  helped steady him as he stood up. "Jim often complains that he falls asleep more quickly at his desk than he does in his bed," he said with a smile. "He blames it on the paperwork; I've never seen fit to tell him about the knockout drops."

Together they settled the now soundly sleeping gambler on the couch and Josiah loosened his collar and covered him with a quilt, running an affectionate hand across the thick brown hair before turning down the lamp and following Gordon back to the kitchen. "How long will it last?"

"Oh, he'll sleep until tomorrow," the agent shrugged. "The drops will only keep a healthy, alert man out for about an hour, but I've found that their initial effect will encourage an exhausted body to get the rest it needs." He saw the questioning look and shook his head. "I wouldn't dare use them on Juliet – she's too small, and an overdose can be deadly. The amount I used on Mr. Standish was the same dosage I've calibrated to use on Jim."

Josiah nodded. "Yeah, they are about the same size, aren't they." Mrs. Potter came back down the stairs at that point and both men turned to her. "Did she drink it?"

Gloria smiled. "Of course – and she was asleep almost before she set the cup down. Where did Mr. Standish get to?"

"Um, about that…" Artemus took her elbow and led her to the sitting room door so she could see the gambler. "My apologies for appropriating your sitting room in this manner, but we decided that he needed his rest, too."

"I'd say he did, poor man," the storekeeper sighed, moving quietly into the room to check on the sleeping man and tucking the quilt in tighter around him before moving back out just as quietly and pulling Gordon away from the door. "Juliet was worrying about him, asked me to try to get him to eat something before he came back up from talking with you. She also wanted someone to go tell Jenny Abbott that she'd be at work tomorrow morning."

The secret service agent made a face. "I should have expected that, I suppose," he said, shaking his head. "Rest assured, Mrs. Potter, that girl is not going anywhere tomorrow – even if we have to tie her to that bed to keep her in it."

"If Ezra was right and we missed a splinter somewhere, that probably won't be necessary," Josiah observed.

  
Ezra had been right and they'd ended up cutting out a splinter buried deep enough to require stitching, but more than once over the next three days Juliet tried to prove Josiah wrong – it finally took he and Gordon actually bringing a coil of rope into the room to convince her to stop trying to get out of bed to prove she was 'fine'. She _had_ managed to use the argument to get her fiancé to resume his normal patrol schedule, though, telling him quite firmly that to the best of her knowledge no one had ever died of the only thing that was truly wrong with her…boredom. "I don't know what to do with myself," she'd pouted at him. "Mrs. Potter won't even give me back my dress so I can try to fix it…"

"Not enough left to fix, darlin'," had been his strained reply, remembering the horrified look that had crossed the storekeeper's face when she'd seen the slashed and torn remains of the brown dress – and the way his own heat had nearly stopped when he'd seen it lying there in the dust beside the trail. "Ah'm afraid you'll have to have Mrs. Potter locate a suitable replacement – and some proper underclothing while she's at it."

The slightly disparaging tone that had crept into the last comment had made her recoil. "Ah'd wondered why you wouldn't give them back," she'd whispered, mortification evident on her face. "Ah…hate to tell you this, Ezra but…where ah'm from those would be considered modest to the point of insipidity."

It was another lightning bolt – for both of them, apparently. He'd apologized profusely and reassured his worried fiancée…and had then spent most of his day worrying over the problem himself, not sure what he was going to do about it. For one of the few times in his life, Ezra felt completely out of his depth.

Buck had drawn patrol with him that day, and it didn't take the ladies' man long to notice that something was wrong; conversely, it didn't take Ezra more than half a dozen of Buck's blunt attempts to draw him out before he realized that he might just be riding alongside the one _man_ who he could talk with about his problem.

The explanation took a while, and when it was done Buck whistled and shook his head. "Damn, that _is_ a problem," he said. "And I'm sorry to say it,  pard, but it's a bigger one than you think; it sounds to me like Miss Julie needs someone to educate her on how to be a modern woman."

Ezra stiffened. "Juliet is every inch a lady."

"Yeah, that she is, and I'd bet she would be no matter where she was," Buck agreed seriously. "But it ain't the same thing, Ez. Bein' a woman is somethin' a girl learns from her mama and sisters and such – and from other girls. She's probably picked up some already from Miz Potter and Miz Abbott, but that ain't gonna be enough." He thought for a while and they rode in silence until he spoke again. "Okay, how's this; I'll have a talk with Inez and Meg, tell 'em that Miss Julie is havin' problems with all this stuff because she had kind of a strange upbringin', and I'll tell 'em that she don't like to talk about it so they won't ask too many questions. Then we'll just let them go over there and handle it the way they want to."

Ezra considered it and then nodded slowly. "Ah believe that would work. And of all the women in town, those are the ones who actually would refrain from pryin' into her past." He sighed. "Ah'll have a talk with Mrs. Potter…"

"Not a good idea," Buck countered quickly. "Best let the girls handle it all. It'll all work out right, you just wait and see."

  
Gloria was surprised, to say the least, when Inez and not one but three of the local 'working girls' showed up at the store and asked to see Juliet, but it was what they brought with them that won her over. She looked over the clothes that Becky and Molly had filled their arms with in astonishment. "You have everything here and it's all just about the right size…but where did you get it? I've been almost beside myself trying to figure out where to find things for Julie on such short notice, seeing as how none of my ready-made stock will fit because she's so small."

"They was Emma's," Meg informed her gravely; Emma, another one of their number, had died the year before from consumption. "She was little too, an' we kept all her clothes 'cause it just didn't seem right to throw 'em away. And when Buck told us what happened to Miss Julie, we was right glad we hadn't."

"The way Buck tells it makes it sound like a dime novel story," Becky added shyly. "But we would have brought the clothes anyways if we'd known she needed 'em – Miss Julie's always been right nice to us."

"She come by last month when we all had that summer cold and brought us soup and things – she fixed up that nasty tea Mr. Jackson give us, too, and made it fit to drink." Molly grinned. "Miss Julie is right smart; she said there weren't no sense in givin' a body medicine that's just gonna make 'em feel sicker from takin' it."

"I'd have to agree with her," Gloria said slowly. She hadn't known about the visit, but the fact that Juliet had done it without letting anyone know didn't surprise her. "I suppose you girls can go on up; Mr. Standish is up there with her now. Just remember that she isn't supposed to stand up on those feet for at least another day or two."

"Senor Willmington already told us," Inez replied with a smile. "He was also hoping that we could keep her occupied so she would stop trying to get out of bed."

The bar manager and the three girls went upstairs, and moments later Ezra came back down with an expression that was equal parts surprise and amusement. "They evicted me, Mrs. Potter," he told the smiling woman. "Ran me right out of the room, said they had 'female matters' to talk about and why didn't I just get back to the saloon and keep an eye on things." He grinned and tipped his hat to her. "Ah'll be goin' then, ah guess, but ah'll be back when Inez comes back to the saloon and gives me leave to return."

Gloria laughed at him, wishing she'd been upstairs to see Inez and the three girls 'evict' the stubborn gambler, but still wondering if she'd done the right thing by allowing the 'working girls' their visit. She kept one ear tuned to the sounds from upstairs, and after about half an hour a cascade of giggles – one of which she was surprised to recognize as Juliet's – convinced her she that she had. _It's about time I heard her laugh again_ , she thought to herself, relieved. _Maybe all she needed was someone her own age to talk to_.

The girls stayed until that evening and then came back the next afternoon, and the afternoon after that; the giggling was louder on the third day, and was this time accompanied by the occasional indignant exclamation and once by a quickly cut off flood of Cajun that couldn't have been anything but swearing. "Ah'd say that was the boots," Ezra commented to Mrs. Potter with a grin; he was waiting downstairs with Josiah to take Juliet to supper at the hotel, eager to see his fiancée back on her feet again. "Just how long does it take you ladies to ready one woman for supper?" he called up the stairs.

"Impatience!" he heard Inez reply. "We are coming now, Senor Standish; do not try to rush us!"

Meg, Molly and Becky came down first and Inez followed behind, trying to help Juliet make the descent on her still-sore feet; by the time they'd reached the bottom of the stairs, every mouth in the room had fallen open. Juliet took in the silently staring men and the astonished storekeeper and sighed, looking mournfully up at Inez. "See, I _told_ you I looked silly."

The bar manager muttered an imprecation in Spanish and the working girls laughed. "Honey, that ain't why they're starin'," Molly reassured her. "You gotta remember, they ain't never seen you in anything but that old brown dress that didn't fit you too good or with your hair fixed up right – just give 'em a minute, they'll start comin' out of it."

"Might take longer than that," Josiah observed, recovering himself. "Those were Emma's clothes, weren't they, girls?"

"Emma don't need 'em no more," Meg shrugged practically. "'Sides, we had too much fun helpin' Julie get fixed up right – just like dressin' a great big china doll."

"Mah thoughts exactly," Ezra murmured, unable to tear his eyes away from his blushing fiancée. Emma's violet blue dress, taken in to be a proper fit by the girls, revealed a slender but gracefully rounded figure molded to perfection by the soft, lacy corset he knew was underneath – and the color made her eyes look twice as large as usual and her fair skin seem as flawless as fine porcelain. A tiny frill of lace at the end of each long sleeve blended in with the bandages that still wrapped her wrists, camouflaging them nicely, and they had pulled her ebony hair back with a blue ribbon but left curling tendrils free to frame her face, softening the still-livid bruise on her cheek. Ezra stepped forward like a man sleepwalking and took her hands in his, feeling the narrow band of cool metal on her ring finger. "You look too beautiful to be real, darlin'; ah'm afraid ah shall be called upon to defend mah claim to your affections on a regular basis once the other men of this town get a good look at you."

Juliet looked up at him through lowered lashes, her blush deepening. " _Ezra_ …"

The gambler smiled and leaned closer. "Best be gettin used to compliments, darlin'…because ah'll call on the good lord to strike me down if a single day passes when ah neglect to shower you with them." He gave her a quick, gentle kiss and then turned to let her take his arm. "Shall we be on our way to supper, then? Ah believe there are quite a few individuals awaitin' our arrival at the hotel – all desirous of seein' you, if ah'm not mistaken."

She smiled and wrapped her slender fingers around his arm, the dainty gold ring gleaming softly against the indigo velvet. "We'd best be going then; ah wouldn't want to disappoint anyone."

Ezra sighed and shook his head, covering her hand with his own, the worn metal of his own ring appearing to pick up part of the gleam from hers. "Ah don't see how you evah could, Juliet."  


  
Things gradually went back to normal in the town of Four Corners as summer shaded down into an even hotter autumn. Trouble came and went like it always had, hastened on its way out of the townsfolk's quiet lives by the seven peacekeepers sworn to protect the town – men much more dedicated than a dollar a day should have made them. They walked the dusty streets and patrolled the rutted trails with guns at the ready, and it was a very brave or very stupid outlaw that dared to ride into their territory, or even through it.

Ezra had been heard to observe more than once that 'stupid' was obviously the middle name of most outlaws.

The setting sun stretched long purple shadows across the seven tired men and their seven equally tired horses as they settled camp for the night, heading for home after three days spent pursuing the latest pack of troublemakers all the way into the jail at Jasper. Buck looked around at the silent men sprawled around the small fire. Vin was staring up at the sky; Chris, out into the deepening twilight. JD was half asleep and Nathan was watching him. Ezra was gazing into the fire, worrying at the gold band on his left ring finger. Josiah was looking at Ezra with a slight smile on his face.

Buck slapped his hat down on his knee, startling all of them. "Dang it, boys, would you look at us? What's happened to us?" He answered his own question. "I'll tell you what, we've been whipped, that's what! Lyin' around the fire, lickin' our wounds – Ezra, leave that danged ring alone before your finger falls off! Chris, what were you thinkin' about just now?"

Larabee smiled. "French toast with powdered sugar."

"An' orange sauce, don't ferget the orange sauce," Vin added dreamily. "Just ain't the same without it."

"You got that right, Brother," Josiah rumbled. "But strawberries would be almost as good. I'm mighty fond of strawberries."

Nathan just stared at them. "How many of you all is she marryin'?"

"Flapjacks would be better," JD muttered, not opening his eyes. "A big stack with butter and cinnamon and sugar."

"She's marryin' _me_ ," Ezra drawled smugly. "And that is why there will be a pie waitin' when ah get home. There is nothin' bettah than my Juliet's sweet potato pie."

"Amen to that, son," Josiah sighed.

"Totally and completely whipped," Buck said disgustedly. "JD, what would Casey say if she could hear you right now?"

"She'd say I have to share them flapjacks with her." The young man opened one brown eye, twinkling with amusement. "Buck, don't I recall you waxin' poetic about a batch of blueberry muffins the other day?"

"Blueberry gingerbread," the ladies' man corrected, licking his lips. "My lord that was good…" Then he caught himself and scowled, his broad shoulders slumping. "God damn it, kid, that was low."

Ezra winked at JD and stretched lazily. "All in favor of ridin' out early in the mornin' in pursuit of my wife-to-be's cookin' say aye." Five enthusiastic 'ayes' were echoed by a defeated one from Buck. The southerner laughed and pulled his hat down over his eyes. "Goodnight then, gentlemen; dawn comes early , ah believe-or so ah've been told, at any rate."

 


End file.
